The Crackship Armada Sails Again, AKA Soulmate Shorts Part 2
by ozhawk
Summary: All the crackships. SO MANY crackships.
1. Intro & Index

The Poll is still open, if you're new to this Armada, or if you didn't vote yet (go to my profile and click on Vote Now near the top). I don't promise to write all pairings or to write them all in order, but I do work from the top of the Poll going down, so the more people who vote for a ship the more likely it is to get written!

This chapter will contain the Index for the Shorts as they are written, plus directions to any continuations that are posted. Please refer back to the Index in Chapter 1of the original Crackship Armada for many, many more ships (some of them a lot less cracky) than those written here!

1\. Intro/Index

2\. Bucky Barnes/Kitty Pryde

3\. Deadpool/Sif

4\. Steve/Jane Foster

5\. Sam Wilson/Beth the Waitress

6\. Darcy/Pyro

7\. Jemma/Scott Lang

8\. Grant Ward/Kitty Pryde (not a HEA for this couple)

9\. Loki/Raina

10\. Bucky/Jane Foster

11\. Brock Rumlow/Grant Ward

12\. Darcy Lewis/Rhodey/Sam Wilson

13\. Jane Foster/Wolverine

14\. Grant Ward/Wanda Maximoff

15\. Darcy Lewis/Victor Creed (Sabretooth)

16\. Rumlow/Gambit

17\. Rumlow/Gambit/Darcy

18\. Gambit/Wanda

19\. Skye/(JARVIS/Vision)

20\. Skye/Rumlow/Rollins

21\. Jemma/Jack Rollins

22\. Rhodey/Beth

23\. Jemma/Daniel Sousa

24\. Angie Martinelli/Dum Dum Dugan

25\. Victor Creed/Daisy

26\. Darcy/Bakshi

27\. Loki/Maria Hill

28\. Fury/Sif


	2. True Love's Kiss (Bucky & Kitty Pryde)

**True Love's Kiss**

 _Bucky/Kitty Pryde_

 _ShadowSoldier or Wintercat – it has to be one of those, because otherwise it's Bitty, Butty or Kicky, which are all TERRIBLE._

 **Theme song:**

 **Faith Hill – This Kiss**

"This is it," Scott whispered quite unnecessarily in Kitty's ear. She rolled her eyes, glad he couldn't see her in the darkness. "You ready?"

"Of course." They'd been preparing for the mission for days now, running simulations of every permutation Scott and Logan could come up with in the Danger Room.

"Careful then, darlin'," Logan's hand rested lightly on her shoulder for a moment, and then Kitty was sliding forward alone, her tiny stature and light weight a huge advantage as she moved silently over the rough ground, her shadow in the night so small even if a guard should see it, they would assume it was just a small woodland animal, a fox perhaps, or a large cat – Shadowcat was on the prowl.

She phased in through the wall just to one side of the massive doors, came out behind the desk of the door guard exactly as predicted. He never had a chance to make a sound before she jabbed the hypodermic needle in her hand into his neck, her other hand going over his mouth at the same time.

The guard only twitched briefly before slumping unconscious. Kitty checked the corridor beyond the inner door was clear before bending over the desk and starting to hack the security system, looping cameras, switching off motion sensors. Within two minutes she was done and straightening up, hurrying to the outer door, disarming the security system and swinging it open.

Jean had maintained a light touch on her mind throughout the operation, and the whole team was already running towards her, knowing that she could only leave the cameras on loop for so long before someone might notice. As soon as they were all inside Logan and Scott secured the door again as Jubilee took over the computers.

"Good job, Kitty," Jean whispered softly.

They all had copies of the plans of the facility, one of HYDRA's most secret experimental facilities. It was surprising that the Avengers hadn't discovered it yet, but they were pretty busy clearing up the mess in Sokovia right now, and it wasn't as if the X-Men couldn't handle anything they might find here.

At Jean's mental signal, they all split up, each heading for their assigned targets. Kitty took Logan's hand in hers, glanced up at him. He smiled tightly – he didn't like phasing, but it was the quickest way to get where they had to go, which was the base's control room.

They dropped through the floor, and Kitty was glad Logan was there as he made the drop from the ceiling much easier on her when he caught her before she hit the floor. And then he let go and stepped forward, claws emerging with a _snickt_.

Kitty looked away from the bloody scene he painted, crossing quickly to the computers. A flash drive from her pocket inserted into the mainframe, a few commands on the keyboard, and she smiled in satisfaction. The base's doors would only open for _their_ codes now.

"Okay, I'm heading for the holding cells," she told Logan quietly, "you hold this area. Weapons storage room is next door. The codes are changed but don't let them break in."

"Go teach your grandmother to suck eggs, Shadowcat," the Wolverine growled, but he was smiling after his own grim fashion as he said it, and Kitty grinned cheekily back at him before dropping through the floor again, this time to the base's lower level. They had no idea who was being held here, but HYDRA had an unfortunate habit of ordering all prisoners executed as soon as they realised they were under attack. Kitty had no intention of letting that happen.

She rolled as she fell to the floor, absorbing the impact on her whole body. There were no alarms blaring just yet, so nobody had noticed their incursion. Springing to her feet with lithe grace, she crossed the room to the single guard gaping at her incredulously in a sprint, and disabled him with a leaping roundhouse kick to the head.

Another memory stick and a few typed commands, and she had the cell block locked down. No one would be getting in or out unless they had one of Kitty's specially made access cards. Now she was at leisure to check the place over.

"Who the fuck are you?" an astonished voice said, and she whipped around, yanking out her gun and squeezing off a shot – but the guard had already slapped his hand down on the Emergency button on the wall.

And there went the sirens, the one thing her hacking was unable to disable as it was on a separate circuit. Kitty grimaced at the noise, but her shot had been good, despite her hasty aim. She checked the monitors, but there were no more guards in the cell block. And, from what she could see, only one prisoner, a man dressed all in black, looking up at the camera in his cell as the alarms went off…

Kitty stared as a metal fist suddenly crashed into the camera, and then the screen went black.

"That's the Winter Soldier," she whispered disbelievingly. "Jean," she said it aloud, knowing the telepath would pick her up, "the Winter Soldier is here."

 _Do not engage! Jean_ replied instantly, _I'm on my way down to you!_

"He's not fighting, he's a prisoner." Jean didn't reply, though, and Kitty, glancing at the number above the now-dark monitor, realised the door to the Soldier's cell was right opposite the guard station. She bit her lip, looking at it silently, wondering what to do.

 _I could just check on him. Tell him we're friendlies, that we're going to get him out of here…_ mind made up, she headed over to the cell. The port in the door was stiff, and she struggled with the latch for a moment before realising that it was above her head height anyway. With a shrug, she phased through the thick metal door.

Bucky had been waiting for the door to open, for his chance to ambush the guards who would undoubtedly be coming in to kill him if the facility was really under attack. He couldn't think of any other reason for the cell block alarms to be going off, since he was the only prisoner and it certainly wasn't him making any escape attempts.

He really hadn't been expecting a child to walk _through_ the door.

"Whoa!" Kitty dodged away from the Soldier's upraised metal fist. "I'm not here to hurt you!"

Bucky's lips curled back in a snarl and he struck out without being aware of what he was doing. The words which had appeared on his skin twenty-one years ago had so offended HYDRA's high command that they had ordered him conditioned to kill instantly anyone who spoke them to him. And it appeared some of his conditioning was still in effect, he realised almost with despair, despite HYDRA having been unable to brainwash him again. The machine – the Chair – had been destroyed by Bucky himself, along with everyone who knew how to operate it, before they caught him again.

His memory had been repairing itself slowly. He knew who he was, what he'd been – what he'd done. HYDRA wanted their Asset back, of course, and von Strucker had ordered him confined here while he sought to recreate the Chair. There'd been talk of using some other asset, a witch who could manipulate minds, but apparently they didn't trust her not to manipulate him to serve her own ends.

"Eek!" There was no way Kitty could have deflected that blow, not without breaking her arm with the block – so she phased _through_ it and dodged away. Another blow was coming at her almost immediately, and she phased again. And again, but she wasn't leaving the room. It almost seemed as if the Soldier was fighting against the instinct to hurt her, his lips drawn back in a grimace.

She wasn't a child, Bucky realised. Not much past, barely out of her teens if that, but her body, though small, bore definite feminine curves beneath her tight-fitting black tac suit. And apparently she could walk through walls, which was a new one on him. He wished like hell she'd just get out of here, this girl who might be his soulmate, instead of ducking and weaving around him in a graceful dance, letting his blows pass right through her when she couldn't avoid them.

"You have to get out of here, before I hurt you," he gritted out desperately, unable to control his own body.

Kitty's eyes widened with shock, and he caught her a glancing blow on the shoulder as she faltered. Even a glancing blow was enough to knock her from her feet, though, and she skidded across the floor and hit the wall – and rolled right through it.

And stepped back through in a different spot a moment later.

"I'm not leaving you. You're my soulmate."

"I can't – stop myself – trying to kill you!" He struck out again, and she slipped through the blow and stepped in close, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head tipped back to look at him. He noted distantly how tiny she was, a scant five feet tall even in the thick-soled combat boots she was wearing.

"Will true love's kiss break the spell?" Kitty asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid not," he seemed to be fighting it, but she could sense his arm – and it was made of freaking _metal_ , the whole thing, _wow_ – swinging back towards her, so she phased right through him.

"Shame. Jean, I could really use some help here!"

 _I can't get in to you. Can't find the cell keys_ , came Jean's reply, and Kitty realised the telepath was just outside.

"Then we'll just have to come out to you!" She danced around the soldier, leading him in a circle until she had him right where she wanted him, and then phased through him again. He spun around with phenomenal speed, lunged forward – and she caught his arm and stepped backwards, phasing with him and letting his momentum take them right _through_ the wall.

Bucky stumbled, pulled completely off balance, and crashed to the ground with his tiny soulmate beneath him, pinning her to the floor. She struggled, her lips open in an O of surprise, and his hand closed on her throat – just as Jean's fingers landed on his temple.

"That's a nasty business, isn't it?" a soft voice said in his ear, and he felt a light touch on his mind. It felt wonderful, _cleansing_ , and he closed his eyes and moaned with relief. "There, there," the soft voice soothed. "Let go of our little Cat, now."

His fingers unclenched with a clicking and whirring of gears. "I didn't want to hurt her," Bucky said, his eyes still closed.

"I know." Jean looked past him at Kitty, who was staring up at her wide-eyed. She could read in both of their minds their newly discovered soulmateship. "You'll never hurt her, will you, Bucky?"

"Never again," he promised fervently. "As long as there's no more traps in my mind…"

"No more," Jean promised, lifting her hand away from his head. "You're all safe now."

He opened his eyes, looked down into the soft hazel eyes of the young woman lying beneath him. They were beautiful eyes, shifting colours of amber and green. He could have stared into them forever.

Except he was crushing her with his weight and she was struggling to breathe. With a muffled curse Bucky sprang to his feet, stooping to help her up. Jean backed away with a quiet smile, going over to the security station to check the monitors, giving them at least the illusion of privacy.

"I'm sorry," Bucky said inadequately.

"It's all right. It wasn't your fault. Bucky, is that your name? I'm Kitty, Kitty and Bucky sounds kind of funny, doesn't it?" Kitty suspected she was babbling, but, well, up close her soulmate was absolutely _gorgeous_. He was wearing plain black sweatpants and a black tee, neither of which did anything to disguise the fact that he was built like a tank. Shaggy dark brown hair tumbled around stubbled cheeks, piercing ice-blue eyes seemed to stare right into her.

"Kitty," he said slowly, tasting the name on his tongue. A smile curved his face, flashing a dimple in his chin, and Kitty stared. "It suits you. Little cat." His human hand came up, made to stroke her hair, but at the last moment he thought it might be a bit presumptuous and let it fall away.

Kitty grabbed his hand and lifted it back to her head. "You can pet me. I don't mind."

Her brown hair was so soft under his hand. He stroked gently, wonderingly, and she pushed her head into his touch and made a contented little sound.

"This feels a lot like a dream," Bucky said wonderingly.

"I promise it's not." Kitty gave him a mischievous smile. "I could give you a kiss so you know it's real."

"No, then I'd _definitely_ know it's a dream," he shook his head, a small grin coming to his lips. "What's this thing you have about kissing me? That's the second time you've offered." He adored her smile, the hint of wickedness in it as she looked up over the foot of height difference between them.

"Maybe the third time I'll just _take_ , then," Kitty reached up, put her hands on his shoulders. "Though you'll have to bend down for me."

He couldn't help but laugh. And put his metal arm around her tiny waist, lifting her up easily. "This is better. You won't get a crick in your neck."

"I like the way you think, soulmate." Her arms slid around his neck and she kissed him, her lips soft and tender and everything sweet in the world that he'd been denied for over seventy years. Slender legs wrapped around his waist and Kitty hung on tight as he kissed her back with fierce hunger.

When finally they pulled apart, both panting for breath, they were surrounded by silently watching X-Men. Bucky stiffened, automatically assessing for threats, but Kitty's soft little hands on his cheeks stilled him.

"They're my friends. It's all right, Bucky, no-one here will hurt you."

"Unless you break Kitty's heart," Logan growled, "and then we'll hurt you _a lot_."

 **I don't think he'd dare, not with that crew thirsting for blood, do you?**

 **They would be awfully cute together, though!**


	3. A Good Word With The Goddess (Wade& Sif)

**A Good Word With The Goddess**

 _Deadpool/Sif_

 _DeadSword_

 **Theme song:**

 **Billy Joel – Uptown Girl**

 **Loads of people voted for this. And I sat there for AGES staring at the ship and wondering HOW IN THE HELL I would actually get them to meet. And in the end, I decided to totally cheat.**

 **So this is set in the same AU as Thor/Ororo and Loki/Rogue. It's the night of Rogue's bachelorette party.**

"Oooh, hello again! I love these."

 _Shut up, Wade. You're not supposed to be talking to me._

"But they're so much _fun_! The idea of having a soulmate is fantastic. Especially for me. Nobody understands me, you see, the thought of someone who would, who'd get me, it's just so _enticing_ …"

 _Do you want to find out who I've paired you with or not?_

"Yes, please!"

 _Then shut the fuck up and let's start the story._

"Princess Anna-Marie," Wade drawled, sliding onto the bar stool beside Rogue. "Sounds like so much fun."

"Fuck off, Wade," Rogue said without heat. Leaning into him for a moment, letting their shoulders brush. Wade was one of very few people who'd willingly allowed her to touch him, before Loki. He didn't mind the pain, and he could heal from it anyway. When her desperation to feel human touch had become too much, she'd gone to him more than once, and he'd given her what she needed, even stripped off his shirt and let her touch his scarred torso, held her in his arms and pressed his lips to her brow as she cried on his shoulder. It was a debt she'd never be able to repay, and they both knew it.

Not that he would ever ask for payment anyway. It wasn't Wade's way. He was unbelievably generous to those few he considered his friends. Rogue had heard through the grapevine about how he'd gone to Gambit once word reached the Cajun of Loki and Rogue, let Gambit beat him half to death to take out his pain and rage.

Another debt she'd always owe Wade. Rogue cast him a sideways smile. "So what boon would you ask of a Princess, Deadpool?"

He was watching the dance floor. "Put in a good word for me with the goddess?"

"Huh?" Puzzled, Rogue followed his glance. Saw Sif there, dancing gamely but rather awkwardly as Kitty and Illyana tried to show her the steps. "Oh dear God no. _Sif_? She'd have you for breakfast."

Wade licked his lips. "I certainly hope so."

"Wade!"

"Oh please tell me you're not innocent of sex still. Am I really going to have to give you the birds and the bees talk? Because I'd really hoped Loki had taken care of that by now…"

"No!" she blushed red. "I mean, yes, he has – we have – Wade, stop it!" as he began to laugh.

"Ah, lass," he reached out and ruffled the white streak in her hair fondly. "Still so innocent, and getting married tomorrow."

"Shut it," she groused, pushing his hand off, "or I won't introduce you to Sif."

"Introduce who to Sif?" the lady herself said, striding up to the bar. "Another, my good man, I pray you," she said to Bobby, who was acting as bartender. He grinned and held his hand over a glass, ice cubes forming and tumbling into it before he poured scotch over it and handed it over. Sif smiled and took a gulp. "Ah, most refreshing!" She leaned one elbow on the bar and smiled fondly down at Rogue. "So who have I not met?" She glanced beyond her at Wade, cocked a dark brow as she caught the blond staring at her. " _You_ have not been to Asgard."

"I'm afraid no one in their right mind would trust me to behave in a way befitting a diplomat," Wade said cheerfully. "I have a tendency to say very inappropriate things to important people, and then take it amiss when they try to kill me."

Sif smiled. "A kindred spirit. I have no skill at diplomacy either, I fear. My negotiations occur at the point of my blade."

Wade was gazing, positively love-struck. Feeling a little surplus to requirements, Rogue grinned and eased off the bar stool in between them. "I'm going to dance, Sif. Have a seat, you two can discuss fighting styles. Wade likes swords too."

" _Katanas_ , get it right," Wade grumped, but he gave her a wink and Rogue winked back and headed off to join her girlfriends.

"The curved blades the samurai of Japan use?" Sif slid gracefully onto the vacated stool. "I fought against them once, long ago. They were most skilled."

"Wade Wilson, m'lady," he remembered his manners, what little Jean and Ororo had managed to beat into his crazy head, held out his hand. "Also known as Deadpool, but please call me Wade."

"You may call me Sif," she declared with a smile, "as I hope we will spar and you will show me your skill at blades." Her slender hand curled around his.

Both accustomed to pain, neither cried out at the sharp, stinging agony in their palms.

Sif's grey eyes widened as she stared at the blond man.

"Fuck me you're the best author _ever_ , she's hot like the sun!" Wade exclaimed.

 _Wade, now would be a really good time to talk to your soulmate and not to me._

"Oh, yeah, I s'pose – goddamn, I am the luckiest guy in the world," he said very sincerely to Sif, "and I'm really sorry."

"What for?" she frowned slightly at him, puzzled.

"You're so fabulous you undoubtedly deserve better than a fucked-up science experiment like me."

Sif's smile was slow, her eyes sparkling as she retorted; "No doubt many Asgardians will tell you that you deserve better than a woman who plays at being a warrior."

"From what I've heard, you don't treat it like a game," Wade shook his head, "and I doubt anyone would have the guts to say that in your presence." He grinned at her. "And if they say it to me _out_ of your presence, I'll remove their guts for you, how's that for a deal?"

She was still holding his hand. Tightened her grip now. "That sounds like a deal I would like." Her free hand came up, touched his cheek lightly. "And if anyone else tries to use you for a science experiment, I will cut them into tiny pieces and feed them to _bildsnipe_."

Her hand was a warrior's hand, strong, callused from gripping a sword. Wade turned his head and kissed her palm softly, saw a faint blush come to her pale cheeks. "Come dance with me," he said suddenly, standing up and tugging gently on her hand.

"I am – not very good at this way of dancing," Sif shook her head, her blush deepening as he tried to pull her towards the dance floor.

"That's okay. I'll make a complete idiot of myself and everyone will be so busy laughing at me, they won't notice!" Wade said gaily, and Sif started to laugh, letting him tow her along.

Just as they got to the dance floor, though, the music changed and a slow song began to play. Wade glanced up at the DJ's box, gave Jubilee a discreet thumbs-up. She grinned back at him.

"This kind of dancing is easy," He pulled Sif into his arms, sliding his hands to the back of her waist. She went stiff against him instantly.

"In _public_?"

"Look around you," Wade suggested, and Sif did, her eyes widening as she saw couples swaying together on the dance floor.

"This is – acceptable? To be so close, in public?" Sif seemed rather shocked. Asgardians, with their long lives, were rather more reserved than humans, apparently.

"Certainly." Wade mentally revised his plan of getting Sif into bed on the first date. Well, he had time. The rest of his life. She relaxed slowly against him, putting her arms around him and leaning in, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"People are looking at us," Sif whispered in Wade's ear.

He grinned. "They're thinkin' I'm the luckiest guy in the world." He was, indeed, receiving a lot of incredulous stares. Being Wade, of course, he was totally used to that.

Sif laughed, let him hold her a little closer. And when he turned his head and sought her mouth, she kissed him back. Wade broke the kiss to look up at the ceiling briefly.

"You're fuckin' _awesome_."

 _Thank you, Wade. Now get back to kissing your soulmate._

 **Author is awesome. And author very much hates writing Deadpool because he won't stop TALKING TO ME.**


	4. Double Trouble (Steve & Jane Foster)

**Double Trouble**

 _Steve/Jane Foster_

 _AstroCaptain? CaptainPhysicist?_

 **Theme song:**

 **Pink – Trouble**

 **So this one came from the following prompt on Tumblr by widowbitesandhearingaids;**

can you imagine steve and jane foster being bestest bros though? I mean, Jane literally throws herself into harms way for science and for Thor (and for literally everyone else her self-preservation instinct is zero) and steve sees so much of who he was back in the 40s in her

so they hang out all the time, swapping stories and Jane helps him acclimate to the future. (steve's no astrophysicist but he can work a computer i dunno why people love thinking that he can't figure out anything modern)

and then all the shit with ca:ws happens and when Bucky is finally found, steve introduces them thinking that bucky will like jane as much as Steve does. but bucky is flat-out horrified. because somehow 70 years later there is another fucking skinny steve rodgers walking around only this one is a girl and doesn't just like to pick fights with bullies, no, this one likes to pick fights with shady government agencies, throwing caution to the fucking wind, and he nearly has an aneurism when he finds out that she broke into a facility to get Mjölnir back

 **I read it and went OMG YES ALL OF THIS I MUST WRITE THIS.**

 **We'll just gently pretend that there's no romantic relationship between Thor and Jane though, mmkay? They're just good friends. Such good friends, in fact, that Thor delights in telling his new friends about her…**

"She did what?" Steve fell about laughing as Thor finished the story.

"She hit me with her vehicular conveyance," Thor repeated, grinning. "Twice. And then my other friend Lady Darcy smote me down with her weapon of lightning."

"They both sound like trouble," Bucky said with a small smile, "but hey, they did a decent job of making sure you wouldn't be a threat to them."

"That is true, but Lady Jane in particular is most heedless of threats to her safety. Hitting me with her vehicular conveyance was an accident, both times. I am glad she has Lady Darcy to see to her safety. As for the Aether, well," Thor shook his head, "Lady Jane confessed that she was simply drawn to it out of _curiosity_."

Steve was laughing even harder. "Oh, she sounds like a hoot, Thor. I gotta meet this dame."

Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Of course you want to meet her. This is the woman trying to punch wormholes through space. You prob'ly wanna volunteer to jump through to see what's on the other side."

"That would be a noble and courageous act," Thor nodded.

"For fuck's sake, don't _encourage_ him!"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Jane Foster turned out to be a petite, almost frail-looking, but very beautiful woman with long brown hair and soft brown eyes. She had a merry laugh, which sounded out as Thor picked her up and swung her around.

"You're crushing my ribs, big guy!"

"My apologies, Lady Jane," he set her down gently, patted her shoulder affectionately – which almost sent her to her knees, Bucky noticed – and turned his attentions to the slightly taller and sturdier brunette who'd followed her in. "Lady Darcy!" Darcy got the exact same hug treatment, but returned it with much more enthusiasm.

"Dr Foster," Tony stepped forward, smiling. "Delighted to meet you."

"Mr Stark, likewise," Jane returned his handshake with a smile. "I've been after Thor to introduce us for ages. I want to talk to you about using an arc reactor to power the…"

"Let's leave the sciencing until after the introductions," Pepper cut in gently, reaching to shake Jane's hand too.

"Oh," Jane had the good grace to flush. "Sorry, Ms. Potts…"

"Please call me Pepper," she said charmingly, "and let me say how glad we are to have you and Darcy come to the Tower. Natasha, Maria and I have been feeling very much outnumbered."

Jane smiled at that, looking around. Natasha and Maria weren't even there, busy elsewhere at that time, and the room did seem to be full of large males. Including Dr Bruce Banner, and she barely managed to politely disengage from Pepper before darting over and grabbing his hand to shake enthusiastically.

"Typical scientist," Bucky muttered to Steve as Jane once again lost herself in science-speak, not in the least discouraged by Bruce, who joined in enthusiastically.

"Stunning, though," Steve said appreciatively.

She was, Bucky couldn't disagree, willowy and slender. Her friend Darcy was rather more to his taste though, with curves for days and a mouth made for sin. Thor had called her Jane's intern, but Bucky thought _wrangler_ was probably more the correct term, as Darcy gently cut off Jane's conversation with Bruce and turned her towards Clint. Jane promptly started talking about wind speed and trajectory at him, which made Clint's eyes glaze over and Bucky grin. He had no idea how the archer pulled off his shots without doing the appropriate calculations, but Clint's math was pretty much grade school level.

Realising she'd lost Clint and he was utterly blanking at her, Jane sighed and disengaged politely, turning towards the two tall men standing together. The blond was Captain America, of course, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans almost identical to Jane's current attire. She'd resisted Darcy's every effort to get her to wear something nice, insisting that they were _moving_ and she'd be carrying boxes and fixing her machines shortly, and she needed to be comfortable for that.

The sharply-dressed dark-haired man stepped forward to greet her first, and Jane realised this must be the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. She smiled and took his offered hand, her eyes drawn inevitably to his left arm.

"That is an _amazing_ piece of machinery," she said, wondering if he'd let her take a look at its workings.

"The only thing HYDRA gave me worth having," Bucky said dryly, "though Stark's been busy designing improvements."

"Really? I'd love to take a look," Jane said enthusiastically.

Steve snickered a laugh beside them, and she gave him a reproving glance. "Don't laugh, it's about quality of life."

Both Steve and Bucky started back, eyes widening. Steve flushed rosy red and seemed to have swallowed his tongue, so Bucky nudged him sharply. "Go on, punk, you need to say something!"

"Why?" Jane looked blank for a moment, and then suddenly caught on to the possibility. "No," she said disbelievingly. "You can't possibly be. _Captain America_?"

"That's me," Steve managed finally.

"You idiot, what a dumbass soulmark to have…" Bucky said, but trailed off as he saw Jane's eyes light up. "Well, I guess she's used to it," he mumbled under his breath. Sighed as Jane stepped forward and Steve reached for her hands, gazing down into her eyes. They were still gazing at each other in starry-eyed silence a couple of minutes later, Bucky watching them with his arms folded, having awful premonitions of having to pull _both_ of them out of unwinnable fights by the scruff of their necks, when Darcy came up to him.

"Hey tall dark and dangerous, what's up with my boss lady and Captain Studly?" she said cheerfully.

" _What_?" Bucky wheeled around to face her. It was only after she spoke again that he realised she had an even stupider soulmark than Jane's. Because she had to be, there was surely no-one else who would say those words to him…

"I said, what's up with… what?" Darcy actually took a couple of steps back, because the former assassin's (at least, she hoped he was a _former_ assassin) blue eyes were unnervingly intense as he stared at her.

"Does your soulmark say 'what'?" he asked.

"Yes, why?" Darcy's brain then caught up. "Oooh, _really_?" She looked Bucky up and down and actually licked her lips. " _Yum_. Lucky me."

"Lucky _me_ ," Bucky disagreed, "though you're going to have to help me wrangle those two," he gestured at Steve and Jane without taking his eyes off Darcy. "From what Thor's been tellin' me, your boss has the self-preservation instincts of a depressed lemming. And Steve is no better, though at least he's not a skinny little weakling any more."

Darcy smiled up at him. "Well. At least it means double dates won't be awkward!"

 **Couldn't resist a side of Bucky/Darcy there, I do love those two as a couple! And I can just imagine them frantically trying to keep Steve and Jane out of trouble, only every now and then they get, ahem,** _ **distracted,**_ **and turn around to find the lab on fire or the pair of them disappeared through a wormhole.**


	5. The Right Moment (Sam & Beth)

**The Right Moment**

 _Sam Wilson/Beth The Waitress_

Sambeth

 **Theme song:**

 **Walk The Moon – Shut Up And Dance**

"She's pretty. You should ask her out."

Steve glanced sideways at Sam, snorted quietly. "Who, Beth? She's not my type."

Sam looked again at the blonde waitress who had greeted Steve with cheerful "Hi, Steve!" as they took their seats in the busy sidewalk café. "Are you blind? She's _stunning_ , she's everybody's type!"

Steve grinned at that. "I won't deny the visual appeal, and Beth's a sweetheart, too. But – I think she's the picket-fence kinda girl, and – that's not who I am. Not any more."

Sam looked at his friend, at his noble chin held high – and he shook his head. "You are out of your tiny mind."

Steve laughed. "Why don't you go for it then, Sam? I'll put in a good word for you."

Eyeing Beth as she bent over to clear dirty coffee cups from another table, Sam hesitated. "Is she single?"

"As far as I know," Steve shrugged.

"Well in that case, _hell_ yeah. Introduce me when she comes to take our order, would ya?"

Only, it seemed that Beth wasn't going to take their order. Another waitress came over instead. And delivered their coffee. And brought their check. The café was busy, both waitresses rushing about, and Beth never got close to their table.

"I could go and say you'd like to ask her out?" Steve offered.

"I am not twelve, Rogers," Sam said witheringly, "I can ask a girl out by my own self, thanks very much."

Steve grinned. "Now you know how I feel when Nat's trying to matchmake for me."

Sam laughed at that. He had a loud, cheerful laugh, and Beth glanced over as she delivered coffee to another table and smiled at him. Before dashing off again to take another order.

"Are you gonna…?" Steve nudged Sam as they got up to leave.

Sam glanced inside the café. Saw Beth leaning on the counter having a moment's respite. She looked flushed and tired, running the back of her hand over her forehead. He hesitated, but then shook his head. "Not today. It's only a couple blocks from the Tower, I'll come another day, when she's not run off her feet. I get the feeling I might get my head bitten off if I try to hit on her today."

Steve made a noise – was he _clucking_? Sam aimed a punch which the super-soldier dodged, chuckling.

"Asshole. You gotta pick the right moment, Rogers."

"You pick your _moment_ , then, Falcon. Let me know if it ever comes."

Sam growled and grabbed. Steve ran, laughing, easily evading his friend.

Over the next week, Sam went back to the café no less than four times.

And the moment never came.

The first time, Beth wasn't there. He asked and was told it was her day off.

 _Just my luck_ , Sam thought, and took his coffee to go.

The second time she was there, but just finishing her shift as he arrived, walking out of the café with her bag over her shoulder, chattering on her phone. She gave Sam a bright smile and walked away. He turned to watch her go regretfully.

 _Shitty timing, Wilson._

The third time, he was with Stark, who talked so much Sam never even got to say a word to Beth. There was no question of his asking her out with Stark there anyway, the billionaire was the world's worst gossip. If Beth turned him down Sam's ego would probably never recover from the razzing he'd get from the other Avengers. He looked regretfully back at her as he and Stark walked away.

 _Next time, beautiful._

On the fourth occasion, he was just entering the café, about to take a seat at one of the outside tables, when he saw Beth at a neighbouring table, talking to a good-looking white dude dressed in a very expensive suit. Tall, blond and blue-eyed, the guy could have given Steve Rogers a run for his money in the looks department. Sam hated him instantly.

"That's very sweet," Beth said, laughing at something Mr Overly Handsome had said.

"How about your phone number then, sweetheart?" Mr Smarmy Git gave her a winning smile.

"Oh no. I'm sorry." Beth smiled sweetly. "I don't date people I meet at work."

Sam froze, hand on the back of the chair he'd been just about to pull out to seat himself. Making like his phone had just vibrated in his pocket, he pulled it out. "Hi? Oh, yeah, I was just about to get coffee – no, sure, I can come now!" He walked hastily away.

 _Shit, shit, shit!_

Despondent, Sam trudged back to the Tower. How the hell was he ever going to ask Beth out now? He wasn't going to make like a creepy stalker and follow her around so that he could 'conveniently' bump into her at the grocery store or something. She seemed pretty sharp, anyway, he'd heard her remember several customers by name and their coffee order, she might well recognise him from the café and guess what he was up to. At which point he'd be lucky if he didn't get slapped with a restraining order.

With a glum sigh, Sam leaned back against the wall of the elevator as it zoomed upwards. It let him off on the common floor and he headed over to the fridge, took out a carton of orange juice and poured himself a glass.

"Why the long face?" Barton asked from his perch on top of the fridge as Sam returned the carton.

Sam absolutely did _not_ shriek like a girl. "Goddammit Barton!"

The archer leapt agilely down, grinning. "You know, for a guy who flies, you don't look _up_ all that much."

"Oh fuck off." Sam picked up his glass and took a long slug of his juice. Turning around he did _not_ shriek again as he came face to face with Romanoff.

Natasha grinned at him, her eyes dancing with amusement. "He's just failed, _again_ , to get up the courage to ask the girl he fancies out on a date."

"How did you… no, scratch that, I don't want to know the answer," Sam grumped, "and it wasn't about _courage_. It's about picking the right moment."

"Suuuure," Clint said.

Sam growled and was about to storm out when Natasha touched his arm lightly. "Don't mind us, Sam. You coming tonight?"

He frowned. "To what?"

"Stark's Team Bonding thing," Clint leaned on the counter, arms folded, showing off his thick biceps. "It's mandatory – but hey, he's hosting it in this fancy club, so, could be worse. At least we can get drunk and par-tay."

"Oh, yeah," Sam remembered now. "Sure. Yeah. What the hell. Ain't like I've got a date or anything."

It was a very fancy club indeed, and Sam was glad he'd taken Clint's words to heart and dressed up nice. He looked doubtfully at the queue outside the club – and then Maria Hill got out of a cab with Banner and saw him.

"Hey, Sam. You don't have to queue, we're on the list."

"Of course," Sam shook his head with a wry smile, followed them to the front of the line. Stark had booked out the VIP section of the club, which was even swankier than the rest of it. As soon as they walked in waiters were pressed glasses full of Cristal on them.

"Nice," Sam took a sip, looking around. Romanoff was draped over a white leather couch, her red hair looking like blood spilled on its pristine surface in the weird club lighting, Barton perched on the back of the couch behind her as usual. "So what's the team bonding thing?" Sam asked them, walking over.

"Drink, dance, have a good time," Natasha replied with a grin. "Stark knows how to do things right."

"Oh," Sam blinked. "Well – yeah. That does sound pretty good." He took another sip of champagne. "Where _is_ Stark?"

"Dancing, of course," Natasha waved across the balcony rail to the dance floor below.

"Of course," Sam echoed, headed over to the rail and leaned on it to look down. It was a seething mass of humanity down there, he'd never pick anyone out, but he spent a moment looking anyway, until someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Turning around, he nodded and grinned as he saw Steve – and almost dropped his glass as he saw the stunning blonde on Steve's arm, her slender curves caressed by a stunning crimson dress, high, strappy sandals on her feet.

Steve smirked at him. "Sam Wilson, allow me to introduce Beth Jackson. Beth, may I present Sam as a much better dancing partner than me? Man's got _rhythm_."

Beth smiled shyly.

"You ass," Sam said to Steve, "you totally set this up."

"Me?" Steve put a hand to his heart and did his best to look innocent, but Sam had known him far too long to buy that.

"Seriously, man, I told you, it's about picking the right moment…"

"Oh, shut up and come dance with me," Beth interrupted, laughing as Sam obviously got quite flustered. She'd thought he was really attractive that first time he'd come in with Steve, and then just a couple of days later her co-worker had told her he'd come in and asked for her, and seemed disappointed when she was off duty. She'd seen him a couple of times since, and then yesterday Steve had mentioned that Sam had asked for him to 'put in a good word'.

Beth had been incredibly flattered. She knew who Sam was, of course – the newest Avenger's face had been all over the media for a while – and had cursed her rotten luck when some stuffed-shirt twit tried to hit on her just as Sam arrived at the café today. By the time she'd deflected the self-absorbed moron Sam had gone.

Miserable, Beth had texted Steve when she finished work. _I think I fucked up_.

Less than an hour later, Natasha had rocked up on her doorstep with a bag full of expensive makeup and the most beautiful dress and shoes Beth had ever seen. And now here she was, having basically just _demanded_ an Avenger shut up and dance with her – no wonder he was staring at her open-mouthed, she'd behaved outrageously, it must have been that ridiculously expensive champagne…

"Sam, you all right?" Steve said, puzzled.

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks, man, I'm fine." As though in a dream, Sam reached out to take Beth's hand. She gave him a shy smile, long lashes sweeping down to hide her cornflower-blue eyes.

Steve slid away, giving them at least the illusion of privacy. Sam couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound stupidly trite, though, so he just kind of stood staring at Beth.

"You don't have to come dance with me if you don't want to," Beth blurted out when he'd been silent for a few seconds too long.

"I can't think of anything I'd enjoy more," Sam said with utter sincerity, and his smile grew as Beth's eyes flew up to meet his again, wide and shocked.

"Did you just – did I just…" Beth sputtered, astonished.

"Yeah. I'd show you, but," Sam gestured, tapping his right hip just behind the hipbone, "I might get arrested for indecent exposure."

Beth blushed. If he would, she _certainly_ would, because her mark was in a corresponding spot – on her inner left thigh. She'd have to have her legs wrapped around his lean waist...

"Yes, um, no," she said hurriedly, trying to push the mental image away.

Regaining a little of his composure – though not much, because he could see Steve cracking up in the background and suspected the super-soldier's hearing had picked up far too much – Sam smiled at Beth.

"We can check out each others' marks later. Right now, I believe you invited me to dance?"

Beth's smile was like being bathed in sunlight. "Come on then, Falcon. Steve's been talkin' you up, you know. Says you got the moves."

He tightened his hold on her hand, tucked it into the crook of his arm and led her towards the stairs. "Oh, I'm gonna show you the moves."

 **In case you missed it – I've started writing some one-shot smut sequels to the original Shorts. They are, in a word, porny.** _ **Extremely**_ **explicit. So if you don't like that sort of thing,** _ **don't read**_ **.**

 **On the other hand, if you do like that sort of thing, the first 5 chapters feature Skye/Bruce, Skye/Gambit, Skye/Deadpool/Logan, Bucky/Beth and Pyro/Iceman/Skye. The fic is called** _ **Crackship Armada Sexytimes**_ **.**


	6. A Lot To Ask (Darcy & Pyro)

**A Lot To Ask**

 _Darcy/Pyro_

 _FireShock_

 **Theme song:**

 **John Farnham – Burn For You**

 **Background note: Comic-canon Pyro is also a journalist. This is a slightly older, wiser John…**

"Can I have Wednesday afternoon off please, Jane?" Darcy asked.

"Sure," Jane didn't even look up from the machine she was tinkering with.

"Why?" Tony asked, popping his head around from the other side of the machine. "Got a _date_ , Lewis?"

She made a face at him. "No, Stark. Don't be nosy."

"You do remember that you're obliged to let JARVIS know where you are at all times, right?"

Darcy sighed. "And JARVIS will tell you anyway. All right. I want to go to the Mutant Rights rally."

"Why? Are you X-gene? Do you have a cool power?"

"No, I'm not X-gene," she denied, but seeing Tony's inquisitive stare, sighed and realised she might as well tell him. "My best friend growing up, she was unidentified X-gene. When her power manifested – well, we lived in a small town. There was a lot of anti-mutant prejudice. She and her family all wound up dead." Darcy swung slowly back and forth on her chair. "It's why I chose poli-sci. I felt like it was the only chance I might have, to make a difference. To get a voice, to fight for mutant rights."

Tony stared at her for a moment, looking a little startled. And then he tipped his head to her in a surprising gesture of respect. "Good for you, Lewis. Have a good time at the rally. Be careful, though. Why not take Cap along as a bodyguard? He's got some pretty strong views on mutant rights too."

"Yes, and he and Sam took off for parts unknown yesterday on Barnes' trail," Darcy shrugged. "If he gets back in time, I'll ask him." Privately, she was hoping that she wouldn't have to. Because she wasn't just _attending_ the rally.

She'd co-written the speech for one of the principal speakers. And she was scheduled to meet and talk with Allardyce, a journalist who she knew had written some great, insightful articles about mutant rights. He was on the public record as being X-gene positive, though he'd never revealed what, if any, power he possessed. Darcy was curious but willed herself not to ask.

Steve and Sam didn't get back in time, so on Wednesday Darcy fed Jane her lunch, reminded her that she had the afternoon off, and promised to be back to give Jane dinner before heading out, cheerfully farewelling JARVIS in the elevator.

The rally was well-attended and peaceful, a few anti-mutant groups turning up with signs that read FREAKS OUT and the like, but they were ignored. Darcy had time to listen to the first three speeches – including the one she'd co-written, which was very well received – before she had to go and meet Allardyce. They'd never spoken, but they'd communicated by email and agreed to meet at a nearby café.

On arrival, Darcy scanned the room, but didn't see anyone who looked likely. Shrugging, she pulled out her phone and texted the mobile number Allardyce had sent her. _You here yet? How do you like your coffee?_

 _5 mins. Black with a shot of vanilla syrup, please_ he texted back after a moment, and she grinned and ordered for both of them.

It was a little less than five minutes later when a good-looking blond guy entered the café and looked around. His gaze settled on Darcy and he gave her a rather uncertain smile, so she smiled back.

"Hi, I think you might be waiting for me?" The stunning brunette was the only person in the café on her own, though she had two cups in front of her. John could hardly believe his luck as he headed over and greeted her hopefully.

Big blue eyes widened behind her glasses, and her smile went from expectant to megawatt. "All my life, I think," she said.

John nearly fell over with shock. " _What?_ "

Darcy pushed up the sleeve of her sweater to reveal the words on her forearm, smiling happily up at him. He took her hand and traced his fingers – _wow_ , and they were _really_ warm, considering that it was a cool day outside and he didn't even have a coat on – over the scrawling letters.

"You _are_ St. John Allardyce, I'm assuming?" Darcy asked, since he seemed to have lost his voice, just staring down at her arm.

"Yes – please just call me John." He seemed to snap back to attention and slid into the seat opposite her, blue eyes tracing her face. "Darcy."

"That's me." She wasn't about to pretend to be shy and bashful, so she stared at him, drinking in his narrow, clever face, his surprisingly broad shoulders, his strong hands.

"You're beautiful," he said quietly, and she did blush a bit at that. He had an accent, not American.

"Where are you from?" she asked, a little puzzled.

"Melbourne, Australia. Originally, anyway. My parents moved here when I was thirteen." He shrugged. "The accent's never quite gone away. What about you, Darcy Lewis, where do you come from?"

"New Jersey," Darcy said with a wry grin, "very unexcitingly. It's not at all like _Jersey Shore_."

That made him laugh, and she pushed the coffee she'd bought him across to him.

An hour later, he got up and bought the next round of coffees. Two hours after that, they went to dinner together. John was easy to talk to, a wonderful listener – Darcy felt as though she could have talked to him all night. She'd texted JARVIS earlier, telling him that she'd met her soulmate and to please have someone make sure Jane ate dinner, before switching her phone off. Otherwise Stark would probably be raining all over her parade by now.

"So," she looked across the table a little nervously at him. He'd brought her to a little Italian place he knew of, and they were sitting with their knees bumping under the red-and-white checked plastic tablecloth, a candle in a Chianti bottle between them casting shadows on his face. "I know this is a really rude and personal question…"

"You're my soulmate," his smile was still wondering at his good fortune. "You can ask anything you like and I promise I won't take offense."

"You're on the record as being X-gene positive, and having been educated at Xavier's. What – um – what do you do?"

He smiled. The candle flame between them suddenly flickered, catching Darcy's eye – and she stared as it suddenly began twisting around in a spiral. John reached up and cupped his hands, a flicker danced from the candle across to them, and suddenly there was a glowing orb of fire suspended between his palms.

"I won't show you any more here," he said quietly, pressed his hands together and the fire went out, the candle flame resuming its normal flicker. "Too dangerous indoors."

"Wow," Darcy breathed, her eyes huge. "Fire! That's so _cool_. Well, hot."

John grinned at her, reached to take her hands. The smile dropped off his face, though, as Darcy asked "Do you have a code name?"

"I did. I don't use it any more, really. I – made some pretty stupid mistakes when I was younger. The name is – the X-Men know who I am, but if was public knowledge that I used to be…" he sighed as Darcy gave him a quizzical look. "I could probably, well certainly, still be prosecuted. I've done my best to make amends, to use whatever influence I have as a reporter to do things right this time."

Darcy still didn't understand. "What, were you with the Brotherhood of Mutants?" she said with a laugh.

John didn't smile.

"Oh. My. God." Darcy added two and two and came up with four. " _Pyro_."

"I was young and dumb and hot-headed in more ways than one," he said quietly. "My stupidity cost lives, it cost me my best friend, it set the cause of mutant rights back by _years_. By all rights I should be in prison, but," he shrugged. "Once I realised that what I'd done was wrong, I went back to the X-Men. Helped them turn the tide of the war, and asked them to judge and sentence me when it was over. I don't think I'd have fared well at the mercy of all-human courts."

Darcy grimaced. He was perfectly correct in that, not in the aftermath of that mess.

"All the rest of the Brotherhood were either dead or escaped, and the ones that escaped, could never have been imprisoned safely. I'd have been the one to take the fall for all of it. The X-Men agreed it wasn't fair, and offered me a deal. I could go free, but I would finish off my degree in journalism and then spend my life fighting for mutant rights _without_ inciting anyone to violence. Battle with the pen rather than the sword."

Darcy nodded slowly, understanding. "I see."

"If you don't want to – I understand if you want to walk away," John looked down at his hands, twisted his fingers together. "It's a lot to ask of you, to accept me, knowing about my past."

She reached out, put her hand over his. "John. We've all got stuff in our past we're not proud of."

"Are there dead people and betrayed friends in yours?" His eyes were hollow as he looked up and met her gaze.

"Not mine, no… but I consider Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton to be two of my closest friends. And there's more than enough blood staining their histories for anyone. They _chose_ to change sides, to make the right choice when it was presented to them. How are you any different? Why are you any less deserving of forgiveness?"

John opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He just sat, staring at Darcy, who squeezed his fingers gently before continuing. "Nat calls it _red in her ledger_ , that she has to wipe out. Making amends. So yes, I see exactly where you're coming from, why you're doing what you're doing. What the X-Men asked of you was perfectly fair, and considering that I think I've read pretty much your whole portfolio, I'd say you're more than holding up your end of the deal." She held his eyes steadily. "In fact, if you're willing – I've got some ideas for your next opinion piece."

"I'm going to fall in love with you very fuckin' quickly, Darcy Lewis," he said huskily.

She smiled at him, her face alight with happiness. "Excellent. I think I was in love with your writing long before we met. The fact that you're a hot superhero with a conscience is totally a bonus."

The waiter delivered their meals just then, and there was a flurry of pepper-grinding and parmesan-grating and wine being poured. Darcy inhaled the vapour rising from her _fettucine carbonara_ , sighed with pleasure, and twirled her fork, taking a quick bite. "Mm," she mumbled as the ambrosial flavour hit her taste buds. She swallowed and looked up at John, smiling.

"And if you know any other secret little restaurants this good, I think I'll be falling in love with you pretty quickly too."

John grinned. "Aha. Well in that case, our eternal happiness is assured. I long ago hacked our food critic's secret restaurant database."

 **Because OF COURSE the little shit would have done that. It's exactly the kind of thing Darcy would do, too.**

 **This was inspired by a Tumblr prompt I saw that had Darcy studying poli-sci because she wanted to fight for mutant rights. Unfortunately I've managed to misplace the original source, if it was you please get in touch and I'll credit you for it!**

 **And please feel free to come and prompt me on Tumblr (I'm ozhawkauthor), if you've got ideas for how any pairings I haven't written yet should meet, or what you think they might have in common – I'm sometimes struggling for inspiration with these obscure ones!**


	7. Please Don't Cry (Jemma & Scott Lang)

**Please Don't Cry**

 _Scott Lang/Jemma Simmons_

 _BioAnt? AntNerd?_

 **Theme song:**

 **Guns 'n' Roses – Don't Cry**

 **NO ANT-MAN SPOILERS. YOU'RE SAFE.**

 **This takes place after Ant-Man, which I went to see yesterday. And I'm still smiling because it was, in two words, FUCKING WONDERFUL. While Age of Ultron pissed me off utterly and I left the cinema frowning and wanting to kill the scriptwriters and Joss Whedon for making such a horrible muck-up of it, I can't think of a single thing I'd want to change about Ant-Man. Except maybe more Anthony Mackie. And longer. I could have sat riveted to my chair for another hour. Go see it. You won't regret it.**

"It's been _months_ , Coulson." May came to stand beside him in the secure storage room, both of them looking at the Monolith as it suddenly swooshed down to oily black liquid again, washing against the reinforced glass case before just as suddenly reforming. "We have to accept it. Jemma's gone."

Phil looked haggard and drawn, as weary as when he'd been in the worst grip of his hypergraphia. "We _have_ to keep trying, May," he said fiercely. "Simmons – she gave up so much. Suffered as much as any of us. She was half in love with Trip, she was trying to build something with Fitz – I _can't_ just let it go."

" _We_ won't let it go," another voice cut in, and they looked across the room at Tony Stark, who stood with Vision beside him, both of them tinkering with yet another scanner they'd built to try on the Monolith.

Phil had given in and made the call within two days of Jemma being sucked up by the Monolith. Stark had been here day and night ever since, other Avengers dropping by regularly. Wanda was the only one who had picked up anything at all; she swore Jemma was still alive in the stone, in a kind of stasis, but she couldn't do anything, couldn't reach her mentally.

Sam Wilson came in now, in deep conversation with Mack. He cut off when he saw Phil, came over and grabbed his arm. "Coulson. Listen – I might have a lead on someone else who could help."

"I'm listening," Phil said immediately.

"What do you know about a guy named Hank Pym?"

xoxoxoxoxoxox

"It's very risky," Hank said quietly as they stood in front of the case. "You might not be able to get back out."

"I know," Scott answered, glancing at his mentor/boss. Hope stood slightly to one side, arms crossed. She'd wanted to go in, but Hank had argued her down. Besides, they needed her suit. Scott was going to carry it in for Jemma, in the hope that he could find her.

"If I don't come out," Scott looked around the room, at the gathered group, "take care of Cassie for me?"

"She'll never want for anything," Tony promised. "I swear it. Whether you come back or not, Lang."

"We'll make sure she's safe," Coulson promised just as fervently. "Always."

They were all standing on a platform that Mack had built, suspended from the ceiling, well above the height the black wave could reach to. Scott took a deep breath, snapped his helmet shut, and jumped down to the floor. Walking across to the big case, he clicked open the row of beefed-up latches that Mack had installed, glanced up at Mack crouched on the roof of the case. He'd close it once Scott was gone.

"Good luck, man. Bring our girl home," Mack said quietly, and Scott nodded to him and swung the door open.

Nothing happened.

Scott reached out to touch the stone. Stepped up into the case and poked his fingers into one of the strange, square cavities. "How do I set it off?" he turned to look at Coulson, and the Monolith collapsed.

It was so _fast_. Three seconds, if that, Scott flailing as he was swept off his feet, and then he was gone and the Monolith was still again.

"Now what?" Hope broke the silence as Mack closed the door.

"Now, we wait," Hank said.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Whatever Scott had expected to find 'inside' the stone, it hadn't been endless long, dark corridors. He jogged along swiftly, trying to go in a straight line, if he had to make a turning always choosing left, using a sharp tool to scratch tally marks into the stone floor at junctions. He'd been searching for a while when he heard a sound other than his own footsteps. He stopped abruptly, listening intently.

There it was again, a low, muffled sound. He turned his head, tuning it in, wishing he had the ants with him, but he hadn't wanted to bring them into a situation so totally unknown. Determining the direction, he set off jogging again, turned a corner – and saw her.

Dressed in a spotted blouse and slacks, she sat on the floor, back to the wall, knees drawn up to her chest, her face in her hands, sobbing in such abject misery that Scott's heart wrenched in his chest.

He pulled his helmet off – she was breathing okay, so he'd live – and hurried close, dropping to his knees before her.

"Hey, please don't cry. I've come to get you out."

Jemma's head snapped up, her eyes opening wide and her mouth too. She stared, utterly stunned, at the handsome dark-haired man kneeling in front of her wearing some kind of strange red, black and silver suit. "Y-y-you came," she sniffled, trying vainly to suppress her sobs.

"Yes, Coulson sent me – wait, what?" Scott blinked.

Jemma gave him a very watery smile. "I was wondering how long I'd have to wait for you. I feel like I've been here for _days_."

She certainly didn't look like she'd been trapped in here for three months, Scott realised. Time must be flowing differently inside here. He swallowed. Even tear-stained and blotchy, she was a very pretty girl indeed, with her wavy light brown hair and huge hazel eyes.

"While I'd really love to celebrate finding my soulmate," he said quietly, "our first priority has to be getting out of here. And I don't really know if we can, yet."

"You came in to look for me without knowing if you'd be able to get out?" Jemma said in disbelief. "But you don't even know me!"

When she put it that way, it sounded like the dumbest thing he'd ever done, even though there was some pretty stiff competition for that award. Scott smiled sheepishly. "I'm still glad I did, even if we don't get out."

"Oh God," Jemma let out a choked little laugh. "My soulmate's a superhero!"

Shrugging, he held out his hand to help her to her feet. "More like a micro-hero." She looked puzzled, and he grinned. "You'll see."

"I'm Jemma," she said shyly, as he helped her up.

"Scott. Scott Lang." He was tallish, close to the six foot mark, and had lovely light green eyes and an adorable little cleft in his chin. Jemma lost herself in his eyes for a moment.

She was really pretty, slim and dainty, soft hazel eyes and the cutest sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. His eyes dropped to her mouth, pink and a little puffy and swollen after her tears, and he licked his lips and moved closer.

"This is probably a really bad time," Scott breathed against her mouth.

"Uh-huh," she reached up, unsure where she could put her hands safely on his suit, settled for pressing them against his chest lightly. "Don't care."

"'Kay then." His lips were warm and soft, gentle as they moved over hers, and Jemma sighed into his mouth and moved a little closer, feeling his arms come around her and hold her.

"Mm." Scott broke the kiss with a regretful sigh after a few moments. "Nice though it would be to stand her and do that forever, we need to try and get out of here."

"Right." Jemma tried to gather her scattered thoughts. "How are we going to do that? Nothing ever changes in here. I'm assuming the Monolith turned back to its liquid state at least once to suck you in, but I didn't see anything.

"Yeah," Scott nodded. "I daresay you'll be better able to understand the science than I did when Hank explains it to you, but basically, he did some scans and determined that the Monolith is composed of a substance formerly unknown on Earth. Its subatomic structure is fundamentally different to any known element."

Jemma was watching him with her clear eyes, and he found his mind wandering, thinking of how lovely she was, how clever, even as he tried to concentrate, to explain how the suits worked and how Hank had thought they could adjust their regulators and use the Pym Particles to escape the stone prison.

"Right," Jemma said with a nod finally. "I can see I'll have to ask Dr Pym some more questions. How _fascinating_. But – there's only the one suit. Isn't there?"

"Nope," he shrugged off the pack on his back. "I brought one for you too. It's Hope's – she's Hank's daughter – but it should fit you well enough. She's a bit taller but that won't make too much difference. Um, you'll need to take your clothes off, though."

Jemma arched her eyebrows at him and smirked, and Scott found himself chuckling. "Honestly! It won't fit over what you're wearing. I swear it's not just an excuse for me to see you undressed. Not that I _don't_ want to see you undressed, but…"

"Oh, hush, you babbling idiot," she said in a fond tone and started to unbutton her blouse. Scott gulped, eyes riveted to the soft creamy flesh she revealed as the high collar opened – at the black words just above the top of her breasts.

"I'll expect a reveal in kind when we get out of here," Jemma told him, discarding the blouse a little sadly – it was one of her favourites – and unfastening her slacks.

"Arglfngnh," Scott said eloquently, as Jemma finished and stood before him in just a pretty satin bra and panties, navy with cream polka dots and just a little cream lace around the bra cups.

"I'm assuming I can keep my underwear on?" Jemma took the suit trousers from him and examined them before starting to pull them on.

 _I should have said no_ , Scott realised as she pulled the stiff pants up her slender legs. _We might die and then I'll have missed my chance to see her naked_. But then if they _did_ get out and she found out he'd lied to her – no, probably a good thing he'd been unable to speak at that moment. Reaching out, he helped her with the stiff fastenings on the suit jacket, and if his fingers trembled a little as they brushed her soft skin – well, neither of them said anything, but Jemma stared up at him the whole while, her lips parted and soft.

He handed her the helmet, holding on when she took it from him. "One last kiss," he said quietly, and she reached up eagerly, her mouth sweet under his. Scott closed his eyes and savoured her for a long moment before pulling back and helping her put the helmet on. Putting his own on, leaving the faceplate open for the moment, he took her hand.

"Okay," he said, squeezing her fingers comfortingly. "The controls of your suit are slaved to mine. All you have to do is hold onto my hand, alright? _Don't let go_."

"I understand," Jemma said after a nervous swallow. She brought up her other hand and latched it onto his wrist. Scott smiled at her before snapping his faceplate on.

"I'm gonna get you home, Jemma," he promised, focussing on the _need_ to get back. Putting his hand on the regulator at his belt, he tightened his hold on Jemma's hand – and ran straight at the wall in front of them. Jemma's shriek echoed in his ears as the universe _twisted_ around them…

xoxoxoxoxoxox

"Open it!" Hank Pym yelled suddenly, and a monitor started to beep loudly.

Tony slammed on the button he'd put in to remotely operate the case's latches, and they popped open, the door swinging wide. At that moment Tony saw what Pym had seen, two tiny figures tumbling from one of the holes in the Monolith, getting rapidly bigger, until they were sprawling to the floor outside the case, wrapped in each other's arms.

Tony mashed his finger down on another button and a hydraulic arm pushed the case shut, the latches clicking again.

"Scott!" Hank climbed painfully down from the platform. "Are you all right? Dr Simmons?"

Scott snapped his faceplate up, grinning as he scrambled to his feet, stooping to help Jemma up and then pulling her close. The room was almost empty, he noticed vaguely, only Hank and Tony Stark in there, and there seemed to be even more machinery around. "How long was I gone?" he asked curiously.

"Almost two weeks," Hank nodded at his astonished expression. "How long did it feel like, inside?"

"An hour, maybe two?" Jemma had pulled her helmet off, dropped it to the floor and buried her face in Scott's chest, clinging to him. "Ah, and I found my soulmate," Scott grinned proudly.

Hank blinked, startled, and then a slow smile spread across his face. "I'm very glad for you, Scott. Congratulations."

Tony had already communicated the good news, and the door slid open a few moments later and what seemed to be half of SHIELD and most of the Avengers came running in, throwing themselves at the returned pair and hugging them enthusiastically.

Jemma's friend Fitz, the young Scottish engineer, was sobbing over her, Scott noticed. Coulson had told him that Fitz and Jemma had been making tentative steps towards a romantic relationship when she was captured by the Monolith. Feeling suddenly in the way, Scott tried to move backwards but Jemma reached out and grabbed his hand.

"My soulmate saved me," she said loudly, turning to look up at Scott, her eyes glowing with joy.

"Oh." Fitz pulled back, there was a sudden silence in the room. Mack put a steadying hand on Fitz's shoulder. "Oh – I see. Well." Fitz visibly squared his shoulders, and then he held out a hand to Scott, forcing a smile. "Thank you. Thank you so very much. It means more than you can ever know to have Jemma back with m–, with _us_."

Scott nodded, shaking Fitz's hand with an understanding smile in return. How terrible, to have your heart so publicly broken. The engineer was being very brave about it. Mack guided Fitz away gently, giving Scott a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Throughout all the tearful reunions and new introductions for Jemma, she never let go of Scott's hand, and he didn't try to pull away, a warm, comforting presence at her side. Telling Fitz like that had been terrible, but she couldn't let him hear it from anyone else, and she couldn't bear to be away from Scott for even a moment. Better to be honest, to let Fitz know quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid, though that was a poor analogy for a broken heart.

Turning to Scott in a quiet moment, she found his eyes trained on her, a serious look in their green depths. He _knew_ , Jemma realised, knew that she and Fitz had been tentatively trying to build something between them.

"I know I hurt him," she said quietly, "and it tore my heart out, because he's my best friend. But – after only a few minutes with you, it's so obvious to me now that there was never that _something_ , that _spark_ , between me and Fitz."

Scott squeezed on her hand. "It's all right, Jemma. I get it." He really did. He'd thought he loved Maggie, loved her enough to marry her, to have a child with her – but it fell apart when she met her soulmate. Of course it did. He understood, now, the all-encompassing need to be with that _one person_ , the other half of his soul. No woman before Jemma had mattered, none of them had truly counted. He stood staring into her eyes as slowly the world around them faded away until there was nothing but the two of them.

" _Soulmates_ ," Phil said in disgust as Jemma and the Ant-Man started kissing passionately in the middle of the crowd, utterly disregarding everyone else present.

 **Now, I have some excellent news (apart from the insane plot bunnies that have started breeding in my brain after watching Ant-Man). The lovely Vulpecula Night has started a Skye/Loki continuation! Check out** _ **It Is You**_ **– and yes, she has promised smut later ;)**


	8. The Wrong Choice (Ward & Kitty Pryde)

**The Wrong Choice**

 _Grant Ward/Kitty Pryde_

 _ShadowSpecialist_

 **Theme song:**

 **Jonah's Road – Long Gone (an obscure Aussie band but this song is perfect, it's on YouTube – check it out!)**

 **WARNING: Ward isn't going to get a happy ending. Again. Sorry. (Kitty will be fine, though, promise).**

 **Prompted by .kawaii, who wanted a fic where Ward is still hung up on Kara and/or Skye, and doesn't give his soulmate the chance she deserves. Hope this is what you were hoping for!**

 **For those of you not familiar with the comic X-Men, Piotr Rasputin (Colossus) has a sister named Illyana, who is one of Kitty's closest friends.**

"He's cuuute," Jubilee nudged Kitty in the ribs. "Go on. Go introduce yourself, I dare you."

Rogue chuckled. "Yah've done it now, Jubes, Kitty can never resist a dare!"

Illyana, on her other side, was unusually silent, but Kitty had already had a few drinks and was feeling bold. They'd all been eyeing the tall, exceedingly handsome dark-haired man ever since he walked into the upscale hotel bar where they were holding their girls' night out and ordered himself a drink.

He gave no apparent notice to the four young women eyeing him and giggling together, but Kitty had the definite feeling that he'd taken in and noted every detail about everyone in the room. There was something tragic about him, about the grim lines of his face, the hollows beneath his sharply carved cheekbones, the dark circles under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights. She wanted, suddenly, to comfort him, to hold his head to her breast and stroke her fingers through his dark hair, croon soft words until he slept peacefully in her arms.

"Oh, what the hell." She downed her drink. "Worst he can do is shoot me down in flames, huh?"

Rogue and Jubilee both laughed. Illyana snorted disparagingly.

"He could be a serial killer, Katya."

"Well that's why I have friends to watch my back!" Kitty giggled, patted Illyana's shoulder. "Stop being so gloomy and Russian!" She got up and walked across the bar, concentrating on keeping her steps steady.

"You're too handsome to drink alone," she said cheerfully, sliding onto the barstool beside Mr Tall Dark Sex God.

He blinked unfairly long black eyelashes at her. _Wasted on a man_ , Kitty thought disgustedly. She waited, heart in her mouth, for him to speak. _Please be the one. Please_.

At first glance, Grant had thought the tiny brunette was a child. A second unobtrusive look had told him she was probably the same age as the other young women she was drinking with, twenty-two or three, and certainly this hotel wouldn't be risking their liquor licence serving anyone under-age, they'd have carded her carefully. So, she was just tiny. A scant five foot if that, he assessed as she got up and walked a bit unsteadily across the floor towards him. _Can't take her liquor. Unsurprising with a body weight of about eighty pounds, really_.

And then she opened her mouth and said his soulmark words, making him blink with surprise.

"I prefer to drink alone," he said at last, hoping that she would show no sign of recognition. He'd probably given himself away with his own surprised glance, but really – he didn't _want_ his soulmate. His soul was stained black and anyone who shared the other half of it – either they would be someone equally dark and irredeemable, or they would be the match for the decent person he could have been if his family and Garrett hadn't corrupted him, in which case they were most definitely better off without him.

"Oh my God, it's _you_!" Kitty squealed, hands going to her mouth in amazed delight. "Do you have any _idea_ how many random guys I've approached in bars because of you?"

Unwillingly, he felt his lips twitch up in a smile. She was a cute little thing, even if not his preferred type – her hair was too light and too short in that pixie cut, her eyes green-brown, not so dark as to be almost black. "Sorry."

"It's okay, I only turned twenty-one a couple of years ago, but of course you know that," Kitty chattered happily, "and Logan would have had a heart attack if I had a fake ID before that, so it hasn't been too many times. Wow, you're _really_ handsome." She leaned her chin on her hand and gazed at him. "I feel _super_ lucky. I'm Kitty, by the way. Kitty Pryde."

Grant said nothing. What could he possibly say? She was young and sweet and he absolutely couldn't have anything to do with her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but – I can't."

Kitty stared at him. At the genuine pain on his face. "What is it?" she asked gently, compassionately.

He just shook his head. "You don't want me, Kitty. I'm not a good person."

"You could _choose_ to be," Kitty reached out unconsciously, putting her fingers atop his, where they rested on the bar. "I could help you. Please. Let me…"

"No!" He pulled his hand away. "I'm sorry," he said again, standing up. Tossing a few bills on the bar to pay for his drink, he headed for the door.

Shocked, Kitty didn't hesitate. Darting around in front of him, she put a hand to his chest, looking up into his dark eyes across the more than a foot of height difference between them. "Don't go. Please."

"You don't know what you're asking." He stepped around her, walked out, headed for the hotel elevator.

Kitty's friends were crowding around her, asking what was wrong. She dashed angry, frustrated tears from her eyes. "Not now, guys!"

Dashing after him, she saw the elevator doors closing.

Grant hadn't thought much could shock him anymore, but the sight of Kitty walking _through_ the closed elevator doors just before the car started to move made his jaw drop inelegantly. "What the _fuck_?"

"You won't get rid of me that easily." Kitty folded her arms and stared up at him. "Now what's your name?"

"Grant Ward," he said, too stunned to lie or dissemble. "How did you…?"

"I'm X-gene." She smirked at him. "And I'm _very_ persistent."

He regrouped, shook his head at her. "Look, Kitty – you're young, I get that you've still got all these romantic dreams about soulmates and how it's Meant To Be and all that shit. But you don't want me. I've fucked up too much shit in my life. Made too many mistakes."

"Maybe I'm meant to help you fix them. Didja think of _that_ , Grant?" She cocked her head pertly.

"I shot my last girlfriend twice in the stomach," he said flatly. "She died in my arms, drowning as her lungs filled up with her own blood."

Kitty shrank back against the elevator wall, her eyes wide with horror.

"Some things can't be fixed, Kitty." He shook his head at her. "I've got too many enemies. They'd destroy my soulmate if they found out I had one. And if _they_ don't, I _would_. I destroy everything I touch."

There was utter silence for a moment. And then the elevator doors pinged and slid open. Ward hit the ground floor button and walked out without a backward glance.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The doors opened again and Kitty stumbled out into the waiting arms of her friends. Her tears blinded her, wrenching sobs wracking her tiny frame.

Rogue, unable to touch Kitty to comfort her, shared a look with Illyana over Kitty's head and pulled out her phone as Illyana and Jubilee gently guided Kitty to a couch in a dark corner of the hotel lobby and sat her down, arms around her as she sobbed out her heartbreak.

"Oh, Katya," a deep voice rumbled finally, strong arms lifted her tenderly, and she curled against a broad chest, the familiar, comforting scent of her friend surrounding her. "Hush now. You're safe now, _kotyonok moi_. I have you safe."

It wasn't until Jean touched her mind and drove her down into sleep that the sobs finally stopped, though.

"Will she be all right?" Piotr stood over the bed in the mansion's medical centre, arms folded across his chest. His sister stood beside him, her expression concerned.

"Eventually," Jean looked up at Piotr. "She's young. She still believes that finding one's soulmate inevitably leads to happily ever after." Her lovely face was sorrowful. "Her soulmate did the only decent thing he could, sending her away. He's not a good man, and he knows it." Patting Kitty's lax hand on the sheet gently, she said, "She will need someone to love her unconditionally."

"You know already that I do!"

" _Everyone_ knows that you do, except Katya herself," Illyana said with a snort.

"I have no soulmark, Illyana, and Kitty does! I'm not so selfish as to try to take for myself that which is meant for another…"

"It isn't any more," Jean said quietly. "He rejected her. Her mark will fade, in time."

Piotr stilled. And then he slowly unfolded his arms and reached for a chair, sat down beside the bed. "Then I will wait. As long as I must."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Kitty woke with sore, hurting eyes and a bruised heart. Cracking her eyes open a fraction she saw Piotr sitting by her bed, reading a book.

"Piotr," she whispered, and immediately he dropped the book and leaned over her.

"Katya!" His huge hand hovered uncertainly over hers. "Oh, _kotyonok moi_." His brown eyes were gentle. "I am so sorry."

She began to cry again and he gathered her in his arms, holding her close, and rocked her gently until she quieted.

All her friends stepped warily around Kitty. None of them quite seemed to know what to say to her. Only Piotr treated her as he had always done, even when in her pain and misery she snapped at him harshly. He only took her hand in his and squeezed it gently.

"Why do you put up with me?" she said in despair one day. "I've been _such_ a bitch."

He smiled in his quiet way. "Don't you know, Katya?"

She shied away from thinking about what he meant.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"It's fading," Kitty said quietly to Illyana one day a few weeks later, as the two of them sat together in the mansion's magnificent gardens, enjoying the sunshine.

Illyana looked at her friend's forearm, at the once-black lettering which was now a misty grey.

"Will you wait until it is gone completely?" the Russian girl asked dryly.

"Wait for what?" Kitty stared at her, puzzled.

"To see what is right in front of your eyes, Katya!" Illyana rolled her eyes, exasperated.

Kitty's frown deepened, and Illyana's temper snapped.

"My brother has been in love with you since the day he first laid eyes on you, idiot! He eats his heart out over you and all you do is cry on his shoulder!" Getting up, she flounced off towards the mansion, waving her hands and talking to herself in voluble Russian.

Kitty sat, open-mouthed and stunned. A quiet rustle behind her made her turn around, and she saw Rogue standing there. The Southern girl looked at her for a few moments before coming to sit beside her.

"Did _you_ know?" Kitty asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

"Ah think yah're the only person in the mansion who didn't." Rogue's green eyes were sympathetic.

"But," Kitty said, finally getting over her shock, "he's _Piotr_."

"Yes?" Rogue raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"I mean, look at him! He's – he could have anyone he wanted!"

Rogue said nothing.

" _Really_?" Kitty said eventually, her voice wondering.

"Really. Now what're yah gonna do 'bout it? Bearing in mind that Illyana will kill yah if yah break his heart."

"I wouldn't, I…" Kitty trailed off. "I've been breaking his heart for years, haven't I," she said in a small voice.

"Yah can't blame yahself for that. Not your fault. There's no shame in holdin' out for yahr soulmate, Piotr understood that." Rogue tapped a gloved finger on the fading grey words on Kitty's arm. "It's what yah do now that counts."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Grant Ward stood outside the church, eyes trained on the door. He felt numb, sick. Two years. She hadn't even waited _two years_. He watched as the giant groom lifted his tiny, joyously laughing bride in his arms to the cheers of the watching guests, carried her to the waiting limousine, kissed her before joining her inside.

She was _his_. She was meant to be _his_. Grant's fists clenched at his sides – and something cold and very sharp pricked the side of his neck.

Turning his head slowly, he looked along the length of three gleaming adamantium blades into hard dark eyes.

"The Wolverine, I presume?" he said, careful to keep his voice level.

"Correct. And allow me to introduce Gambit, Deadpool, Cyclops, Storm, Nightcrawler, Iceman, Rogue and Jean Grey. And Illyana Rasputin," Logan nodded towards the icily beautiful blonde in the bridesmaid's dress. "Sister of the groom. A very powerful sorceress."

Grant's eyes flickered over the assembled group. He'd heard of all of them. They were all staring at him from hard eyes, their expressions ranging from _disapproving_ to _enraged_.

"What are you doing here?" It was Illyana who spoke. "Katya's mark faded. You _rejected_ her."

 _Faded_. Her mark _faded_. The words thundered inside his head, and Grant realised just how big a mistake he'd made. Mouth dry, he said "I was just leaving."

"Yes," Logan growled. "You were."

"If I ever see you near my brother or Katya again," Illyana said softly, "I _will_ kill you."

He didn't doubt her.

"You're being kind, Illyana," Logan growled. "If I _ever_ see you again, I'll kill you. Better start running, Grant Ward. I'm givin' you one hour and then I'm comin' after you."

He took a step back, away from those piercing eyes, those viciously sharp blades. Looked around at the others, pausing at Storm and Jean Grey; he'd heard they were among the X-Men's leaders. But they both looked at him with hard, pitiless eyes, and then Storm's eyes turned white and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Grant Ward whirled around and ran for his life.

 _kotyonok moi_ – my kitten

 **You BETTER run, Ward. Logan will turn you to mincemeat if he catches up with you.**

 **It's probably bad that I find that thought extremely satisfying, isn't it?**

 **I** _ **PROMISE**_ **I** _ **WILL**_ **write Ward a HEA soon. PROMISE. I'm thinking Wanda. And maybe a badguys fic pairing him and dark!Rumlow…**


	9. My Beautiful Monster (Loki & Raina)

**My Beautiful Monster**

 _Loki/Raina_

 _TrickSeer_

 **Theme Song:**

 **Labrinth – Beneath Your Beautiful**

 **Loki is still masquerading as Odin and holding the throne of Asgard while the All-Father sleeps.**

 **This one's been brewing in my head for ages. Thanks to .kawaii, who was throwing ideas at me and caused it to finally come out… this is what happens when you feed those damn plot bunnies!**

"Sire!"

Loki looked up from the Council table, startled. "Heimdall?"

"Sire, I need you to come with me – _now_."

"You will excuse me," Loki said perfunctorily to the men and women seated around the table. A chorus of;

"Of course, All-Father," followed him as he strode to the door.

"What's going on, Heimdall?" Loki asked quietly as the two strode out of the palace. Heimdall had horses waiting for them and Loki swung up into his saddle.

"There's a problem on Midgard," Heimdall said succinctly as they turned towards the Bifrost.

"Thor again? The Avengers?"

"Someone important is dying."

"Mortals die, Heimdall, that's what they _do_ ," Loki said irritably, but he didn't rein his horse in, and they were soon galloping along the bridge. It wasn't until they reached the Bifrost chamber that Loki dropped the illusion of Odin's appearance, though. "So who is this mortal that's so important?" Loki grumbled as Heimdall moved forward, drawing Hofund from its sheath and setting the point of the huge blade to the waiting slot in the mechanism. "And what am I supposed to do?"

"Save her," Heimdall answered. "Your mother told me that she would one day be very important to Asgard. That day has not yet come."

"Frigga…?" was all Loki had time to say before the whirling rainbow of lights sucked him in.

He landed in darkness, trees all around him, a small wooden bridge over a little stream close by. It took a couple of blinks for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, after the bright Asgardian day he had just left and the even brighter lights of the Bifrost. And then he saw her, just a crumpled bundle on the ground, like a pile of rags thrown out. There was no one else close, his senses told him that, no danger, so he knelt and reached out to the crumpled figure, sweeping aside the hood that had fallen over her face.

"Ehhh!" Loki startled back as sharp spines prickled at his fingers. "What manner of creature is _this_?" He had never seen anything like it, in all his travels and all his research. Roughly humanoid, it was covered in spikes and thorns. " _This_ , Heimdall? _Really_?" he muttered under his breath, extending his magic, feeling for life. There was a tiny, tiny spark remaining, not enough even to keep her heart beating, but she had no wounds on her at all, and Loki frowned, confused, before sucking in his breath sharply as he realised her life had been _stolen_ , sucked out by some ghastly vampiric ability.

"Poor creature," he murmured, moved to sudden compassion, "no matter your appearance, no one deserves such a fate." She was beyond his minor skills at healing, but Eir might be able to help. In the meantime, he could at least preserve the body, arrest any process of decay. Gently, he set his fingertip against her cheek, on a spot of smooth skin between rows of thorns, and summoned his Jotun ice powers.

Loki did not stop, not even when magic poured unexpectedly back through him. It wasn't until the body was encased in a thin, shimmering layer of blue ice that he lifted his hand and stared at the rune shimmering on his fingertip.

"Seer," he translated the symbol incredulously, stared down at the creature – his soulmate! – in her icy coffin. There was a rune on her cheek where his finger had touched; his own sigil.

"Well," Loki said quietly. "Now I see why Mother thought you were important." He stood staring down at her for a moment before turning his face up to the sky. "Heimdall!"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Raina blinked her eyes open slowly, looked curiously up at a sparkling blue dome above her face. Above her whole body, as she looked down. And then she opened her mouth and screamed.

"No! No!"

"Hush!" a firm voice said, the dome above her blinked out, and a face came into her view.

"I have to die, I saw it, you mustn't let it happen!" she grabbed at him, got a handful of green cloth. "Jiaying, she's going to kill so many, I have to die so that Skye will stop her…"

"Jiaying is dead," Loki reassured quietly, trying to disengage his soulmate's hand from his cloak, hissing as her thorns scraped at him. "Skye stopped the release of the crystals, Heimdall watched it all. And you _did_ die, but you're back now."

"The drug, the GH-325, you used that?" but Raina's attention was caught suddenly by his face. "You're _Loki_ ," she whispered in sudden shock.

"Yes, I am." She was already looking around, taking in her surroundings, the technological equipment so far in advance of Earth's everywhere her huge yellow-gold eyes landed. "And yes, this is Asgard," he continued dryly, before she asked.

"Why am I here? How long has it been?" Raina demanded.

"It has been eleven days, as you would count time. And as for why you are here…" Loki held his hand out towards her, palm forward. "Do you see this?"

There was a strange blue mark on his forefinger, squiggly lines and dots. "Yes, what is it?"

"It means, _Seer_ , in the language of my people." He didn't mention, yet, that the language he meant was Jotun. Conjuring a mirror, he held it up. "There is a corresponding mark on your cheek; my personal sigil. It appeared when I touched you to give you aid after you were left to die."

"I don't understand." The huge golden eyes were vulnerable as she looked up at him.

"You are my soulmate."

Raina looked at him for a long moment, and then she began to laugh harshly, wracking cackles that had more than a hint of a sob in them. "You do not want _me_ ," she ground out finally. "I was beautiful once, but now look at me! I'm a monster."

"Then," Loki said quietly, "we shall be monsters together." Slowly, he allowed the magic that held him in Asgardian form to drain away.

Raina stared open-mouthed as he revealed himself, his blue Jotun skin, the whorls and markings on his face. "A blue angel," she whispered reverently.

"Hardly," a dry voice said from the other side of the room, and Raina spun, wincing as she caught herself on her own thorns.

"Who are you?" she spat out.

"I am Odin, King of Asgard," the white-haired man moved forward.

"Here we go," Loki said in resignation. "Please don't compare _this_ one to a goat, Father?"

"A porcupine would seem more apt, my son," Odin smiled a little wryly, "but do not fear, I have learned my lesson as regards Midgardians, especially their women."

Loki sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes, realising as he lowered them that they were still blue – and yet Odin seemed unconcerned. He'd returned to Asgard with his soulmate's frozen body and taken her to the healers. Returning to Odin's chambers, which he'd been using as his own, he'd been horrified to find his father waiting for him. But it seemed that Odin was not merely refreshed by his long sleep, but that he had also meditated on many things while he rested.

"What is your name, child?" Odin asked quietly, moving closer.

"Raina," she said, somewhat overawed by the aura of sheer _power_ he exuded, but determined not to show fear.

"If you were given a choice between regaining your beauty, or retaining your power of foresight, which would you choose?"

She hesitated. Glanced at Loki, who had resumed his Asgardian form, so handsome, tall and dark-haired. But she'd seen his true self, had heard the honesty in his voice when he told her they would be monsters together. And – she'd learned something important, in the last few days. Learned that there were causes bigger than herself, than the selfishness she'd always found it easy to give in to.

"My gift is too important," she said quietly, "for me to sacrifice it for vanity's sake."

Odin nodded slowly, glanced at Loki with something which looked very much like pride. "There speaks my son's soulmate." Looking back at Raina, he said "I cannot take your gift from you even if you wished it, child. But I _can_ give you that which I gave my son; a guise to walk freely and not be feared by those who cannot accept that raiment does not make the man. Or indeed, the woman."

Raina blinked, bemused, as Odin reached out and passed his hand slowly over her face. And then she gasped as, for the first time since the Mist had changed her into a figure out of nightmare, she felt no pain. No thorns tearing at her insides, snagging her own skin when she moved.

Loki nodded his thanks at Odin as the All-Father withdrew, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving them alone. Raina was touching her cheeks incredulously with her fingertips, running her fingers over her curly black hair, her magnificent eyes wide with astonishment. "Am I truly – did he…"

"It is a spell," Loki shook his head. "A true shape-shift, though, far more complete than the illusions I could cast for you. Odin sacrificed a good deal of power to give you this gift. I can teach you how to control it, to change between your two forms at will."

" _Why?_ " she stared up at him as he came to stand beside her, conjuring the mirror again for her to look at her face. "Why would he do that for me?"

Loki's fingers brushed her cheek, where the blue sigil still remained, the one thing unchanged from her other form. "Because he does not believe that a Princess of Asgard would be accepted by her people if she does not look as they do."

"P- _princess of Asgard_?!"

"And Jotunheim. I'm not technically heir to either of them, though," he shrugged self-deprecatingly, making the mirror disappear since she showed no inclination to look in it. Reaching for her hand, he took it gently, assisted her in getting down from the bier she'd been resting on. Standing, she barely reached his shoulder.

Raina tilted her head to look up at him. "Princess," she whispered, awed.

"Indeed." Loki raised his free hand. She was wearing a simple white garment, standard garb in the Healing chambers. His powers were more than sufficient to change it to something he thought suited her, a flowing, soft drape in deep lavender that set off her beautiful light brown skin and stunning eyes. "There," he smiled.

"Ohhh," Raina breathed softly, looking down at the gown, swishing the skirt a little to feel the heavy, luxurious fabric drape against her legs. She looked up at Loki with a little smile. "Thank you, it's beautiful, but – please could it have flowers on it?"

He laughed and waved his hand. A delicate tracery of flowers and leaves in golden thread climbed up from the hem of the gown, twisting and spiralling around her slender form. And in Loki's hand there appeared a golden circlet, all flowers and swirling vines. It looked like something Titania might have worn, fit for a fairy queen. Gently, he set it atop her hair.

"Whatever my Princess desires."

Raina's eyes were lucent dark pools as she gazed up at him, and Loki couldn't help himself. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers.

They were both smiling when he straightened up. And then tears came to Raina's eyes as Loki said quietly;

"You're beautiful. But I would still have kissed you even in your other form, because that's beautiful too."

"So is yours," she told him honestly. "My beautiful monster."

 **I** _ **am**_ **gonna miss Raina. I thought it was a shame she got killed off, such a fascinating character, and Ruth Negga is** _ **so**_ **beautiful! I'd thought long ago that she would make an interesting match for Loki (they were a pairing on the very first Poll I made), and I'm glad I finally found the inspiration to write this! Hope you all enjoyed.**


	10. What Did I Do? (Bucky & Jane)

**What Did I Do?**

 _Bucky/Jane_

 _AstroSoldier, probably, but Buckster or Fosky or indeed Focky all sound quite amusing…_

 **Theme song:**

 **Powderfinger – Burn Your Name**

 **For Pinkpandoracorn, who wrote a cute smutty Bucky/Jane mini-fic that made me realise I could totally ship them. As with anything I write shipping Jane with anyone else, she and Thor are just good friends, mmkay?**

Jane barely noticed when the Tower gained another new inhabitant. She was so close to a breakthrough on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, she could almost _taste_ it.

Since the whole disaster with Ultron, Tony and Bruce were no longer allowed to Science! together unsupervised. Darcy had been re-assigned to keep an eye on them – and report to Vision or Pepper if she thought they were getting out of hand – but since they regularly went on long Science!benders together, Jane rarely saw Darcy anymore. So there was no-one to notice that she was running on coffee and occasional Snickers bars.

Bucky had been living in Avengers Tower for an entire week before he realised that it actually had one more resident that he hadn't actually met (read: been enthusiastically introduced to by Steve).

"Who's the wraithlike brunette?" he asked Steve one afternoon.

"Hmm?" Steve looked up from the book he was reading.

"Tiny, long dark hair, looks like a breath of wind could blow her away? I thought she was just one of Stark's tech people but then I saw her going into the elevator to the accommodation floors last night, an' you already impressed on me that only people who live here can use that."

Steve had to think about it for a moment. "You must mean Dr. Foster."

"She's a doctor?" Bucky blinked curiously.

"Of astrophysics, no less. She's Thor's friend, the one who's been studying the Bifrost and how to re-create it from our end. Darcy used to be her intern." Steve looked slightly misty when talking about Darcy. Bucky rolled his eyes. Punk needed to get his act together and ask the girl out already.

"And Dr. Foster actually lives here?" he pressed.

"Sure, she moved in a few months ago."

"What does she eat?"

"What?" Steve blinked, bemused by the apparent _non sequitur_.

"Because Stark's got this fancy chef on hand who makes all our meals, we just have to go to the common floor to eat them. But I ain't seen Dr. Foster there yet. And with how much you an' I both eat, we're there at all hours."

"I – can't say I'd really thought about it," Steve admitted. "I don't know. Um. Maybe she orders food to her apartment?" He was buried in his book again within a couple of minutes and Bucky sighed, looking at his best friend fondly. _Well_. He'd just have to do his own investigative work, then. Leaving Steve alone, he headed down to Dr. Foster's labs. She was there, he saw through the glass panelled walls, her back to him – _face down on her desk_?

He knocked firmly on the glass. Dr. Foster didn't stir.

"JARVIS! I need access to this lab, right now!"

"Access denied, Sergeant Barnes," JARVIS replied politely.

"Dr. Foster isn't well, I need to get in!"

"Dr. Foster's biometrics indicate that she is asleep, Sergeant Barnes. There is no cause for concern. I am afraid I am unable to grant you access as this is not an emergency situation."

Bucky glared through the glass. "JARVIS. Is Dr. Foster's weight within normal parameters? And while you're checking that, what has she been eating and when?"

JARVIS was silent for a second or so. And then he said "Dr. Foster does appear to be below a healthy weight. She has lost seven pounds, three ounces since Miss Lewis was reassigned to Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner's laboratory. And her last balanced meal was – eleven days ago."

"Let me into that lab _right the fuck now_ or we will find out if Stark's fancy rocket-proof glass can stand up to this arm." It was a fierce growl.

The lab door slid silently open.

The tiny doctor was a feather in Bucky's arms as he lifted her carefully. She let out a little sigh and nestled against his chest, her cheek resting against his metal shoulder as he carried her towards the elevator.

"The medical centre, please, JARVIS," he requested, "and ask Dr. Banner to meet me there, please?"

Bruce was already waiting for him as Bucky walked in. "Over here. JARVIS filled me in. I knew Jane wasn't much for taking care of herself but this is ridiculous," he muttered, bending over the sleeping woman as Bucky carefully laid her on the hospital bed.

 _Jane_ , Bucky thought. _What a plain name for such a beautiful woman_. Because she _was_ beautiful, even too thin with her skin drawn tight over her cheekbones. He stood by as Bruce checked her over.

"Heart and lungs all right, but her body weight really is too low. I'd like to draw blood, see if she's anaemic, maybe put her on a saline drip because she's possibly a bit dehydrated too." Bruce shook Jane's shoulder gently. "Jane? Jane, can you wake up? It's Bruce."

"Umm," Jane mumbled sleepily, "jussa bi' longer…" but Bruce shook her again, and she sighed grumpily and opened her eyes. To see the Winter Soldier looming over her, arms folded, glowering disapprovingly. She shrieked with fright, jackknifing upright, accidentally head-butting Bruce in the face. He stumbled back, clutching at his nose.

"Oh shit oh shit, don't turn green!" she pleaded in panic.

"S'okay," Bruce mumbled after a few uneasy moments, "I'm okay." He lowered his hand, revealing just a couple of drops of blood on his nose and upper lip. "Just gonna go clean up." He backed out of the room, opening the door with his elbow to avoid getting blood on it.

"Lie down, you little idiot," Bucky said disapprovingly, putting his hand on Jane's shoulder and pushing. She resisted, surprisingly strong for such a frail-looking woman, glaring at him.

"What am I doing here, anyway?"

He blinked.

She blinked.

" _What_ did you say?" they both said, at the same time.

Bucky cast his eyes up to the ceiling. "What did I do?" he said plaintively, "was Steve not impossible enough to look after, God? Now you've sent me a female version without even the sense to feed herself."

"Hey, I resemble that remark!" but Jane was grinning. Her soulmate was _hot_ , even when he was all scowly, and she could see a little smile just tugging at the corners of his luscious mouth. "Maybe that's why you're my soulmate," she offered, "all that time spent looking after Steve before he got the serum was just practice…"

"I'll give you practice," he growled, bending over her. "Practice laying down on that bed quietly until Bruce gets back, and then practice at eating a healthy meal, or I'll put you over my knee."

Jane's eyes were very wide and dark as she stared up at him. "Does it have to be _either or_?" she whispered. "Because I quite like the sound of both options."

Bruce pushed open the door a couple of minutes later, cotton wool balls stuffed ungracefully up both nostrils, and stopped dead at the sight of Bucky and Jane, tangled in each other's arms on the bed, passionately kissing, Jane's nails squeaking on Bucky's metal shoulder as she clawed frantically, trying to get even closer to him, even though from what Bruce could see they were as close as two people could possibly get with their clothes still on.

"Am I interrupting something?" Bruce said loudly.

"Yes," Bucky lifted his head just long enough to say.

Bruce sighed and shook his head. "I guess I'll come back later." Heading out the door, he muttered, "With food."

 **Poor Bruce. Better make sure he knocks when he gets back with that food…**


	11. Happiness In HYDRA

**Happiness In HYDRA**

 _Brock Rumlow/Grant Ward_

 _Wardlow or RumWard… they're great ship names, more people should TOTALLY get on this bandwagon._

 **Theme Song:**

 **Alice Cooper - Poison**

 **Note: Yeah, they're both HYDRA in this. It's a Bad Guys HEA? So it's a bit dark, I guess. Mentions of Ward's past abuse at the hands of family members, in case anyone finds that triggering, and not-at-all-subtle hints of a future Dom/sub relationship. It's probably verging on M rating as well, so… read with caution?**

There was a surprising amount of hidden HYDRA infrastructure still available for his use, Ward discovered. And the remaining soldiers were rudderless, desperate for leadership, frantically leaping all over themselves to accept his direction, obey his every command. It was a heady feeling, this power – but despite the air of certainty he projected for those now looking to him for leadership, deep inside him, Grant Ward was afraid.

Garrett had given him purpose. Direction, security, _orders_. Now _he_ was the one giving the orders, and he was _terrified_ of fucking it up. Every decision he'd made in the last few months seemed to have only plunged him deeper into the morass – he shied away from thinking about Kara, about the shocked look of betrayal in her eyes as she choked out her life in his arms, and even more from thinking about Skye, about the combination of hate and fear with which she'd looked at him on the Bus as he tried to explain. He'd been _right_ in all his decisions, he was still sure of it – but somehow those decisions had ended with him in a place very different to what he'd thought he wanted.

Slamming the door to his commandeered office, Ward stalked across to his desk and looked bleakly at the paperwork strewn across it. _Paper_ , for fuck's sake! Typed and printed on computers they didn't dare connect to any kind of network, because he knew only too well that Skye and her damned Rising Tide buddies would be in their networks, reading his plans, before he could so much as blink.

In a sudden rage, he flung the papers aside with a rough sweep of his arm, smirking with visceral satisfaction as the pile fluttered to the floor in a disordered, crumpled mess. Someone else could deal with it later.

He opened the top drawer of the desk. Set the tumbler on the scratched wooden surface and half-filled it with brandy. The expensive stuff, too; HYDRA had some impressive stores. Sitting down in the chair, he took a long swig before putting his elbows on the desk and his face in his hands.

The room was dark, lit only by the bright moonlight pouring in through the windows; plenty of light for Ward to see what he was looking at, but there were shadows in the corners. He hadn't bothered with his usual professional check of the room, certain that no-one in HYDRA would _dare_ enter his office uninvited.

So he was taken completely by surprise when a thickly muscled arm locked around his throat, jerking him up and out of the chair, the man grabbing him a few inches shorter than he so that his back was painfully bowed as he scrabbled instinctively at the arm across his throat, choking.

"You lack discipline, pretty boy," a harsh, rasping voice hissed in his ear, and Ward froze with shock.

He'd been born with those words on his ass. His father had taken them as a perfect excuse to discipline his middle son any way he saw fit, usually with a belt or cane lashed down precisely across the words, highlighting the scrawled black words with stinging red lines.

He couldn't speak, couldn't get a sound out with the compression on his throat. Just garbled, frantic sounds as the oxygen depleted through his bloodstream, weakened him. And then he was flung to the floor, landing hard on hands and knees. A booted toe prodded between his legs.

"Huh. Garrett was right about you. Said you liked _discipline_."

Aroused and achingly hard, Ward closed his eyes with shame. A strong hand curved under his chin and his head was jerked up to meet the eyes of the man squatting before him.

"Think you've got the balls to be in charge of HYDRA, do you, pretty boy?"

It took a moment for Ward to place him. The scars on his face, the voice more rasping than he remembered… but he could never forget those eyes, the coldly calculating, assessing stare. They'd never spoken – Rumlow was far too senior to him in both SHIELD and HYDRA for him to dare – but Ward knew very well who the other man was.

"I thought you were dead!" Ward whispered, his throat burning.

A gloved hand lifted to touch one scarred cheek briefly. "So does everyone else. My enemies, in particular."

Captain America, of course. Ward had seen the footage. Toe to toe with a supersoldier in an elevator, and Rumlow hadn't backed down. Had damned near _won_. He was a hero within HYDRA, a legend – a martyr for the Cause – but he _hadn't died_.

Rumlow was looking at him curiously. "You said my words, pretty boy."

"And you said mine – sir." Ward could feel his whole body relaxing, accepting Rumlow's dominance over him gratefully. "What are your orders, sir?"

Rumlow stood, a smooth, graceful motion, a smile touching his scarred lips. "Well. This changes things. Get up." He sat down in Ward's chair, gestured to Ward to stand in front of the desk. Picked up the brandy glass and took a thoughtful sip, his hard eyes watching as Ward stood up and moved to stand where Rumlow indicated, hands folded in front of him, standing at parade rest.

Rumlow tapped a finger against his lips, his smile widening. "You'll be the face of HYDRA. The pretty one, smiling for the cameras. You can do that, can't you, Grant?"

"Yes, sir." That would be easy. He was, after all, everyone's type. "You'll tell me what to say, sir?"

"Of course." Rumlow patted his knee. "Come here."

He went without hesitation. Sat in the older man's lap, relaxed into his hold, curving his spine and his face into Rumlow's stubbled throat, breathing in his scent and sighing with contentment.

"Good boy," Rumlow crooned softly, stroking the small of his back. "There's a good boy. My pretty boy, smiling for the cameras, while I'm the nightmare in the darkness."

"Yes, sir," Ward whispered, relaxing even further. It had been so long since anyone had properly taken charge of him. Told him what to do. Commanded his trust.

"Why don't you call me Master? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Oh yes _please_ , Master."

"There's a good boy."

 ***hides face***

 **Sorry! Been reading too much HYDRA Trash Party!**

 **But hey! It's technically a happy ending for Ward! Told you I could write one!**

 ***runs away to hide behind couch***


	12. What Are The Odds? (Sam, Darcy & Rhodey)

**What Are The Odds?**

 _Darcy/Sam/Rhodey_

 _FalconTaserMachine…?_

 **Theme song:**

 **John Legend – All Of Me**

 **Sam and Rhodey meet first, at the New Avengers facility. While they were both at that party in Avengers Tower in AoU, I don't believe they spoke to each other, so I'm going to say that they haven't been introduced ;)**

"And this is Colonel James Rhodes, aka War Machine," Steve introduced, "Rhodey, my friend Sam Wilson, the Falcon."

"It's an honour, sir," Sam said genuinely. He wasn't in uniform so couldn't salute the senior Air Force officer, but he stood at attention and bowed his head respectfully.

"I've heard a lot about you, Wilson," Rhodey said cheerfully, his eyes taking in the younger man. He'd heard about Wilson long before, about how the youngster had been one of the service's brightest stars, an amazing pararescue flyer before the crash that claimed the life of his best friend (some unkindly whispered that Riley had been Wilson's lover) had led to Wilson suffering PTSD and choosing to prematurely end his career.

Since then, though, Wilson had voluntarily put himself into situations far worse than anything he'd faced in his military career and come through all right. Which would seem to lend credence to the rumours about Riley, which in turn made Rhodey wonder about Wilson's sexuality. Wonder if the younger man would be interested in being more than just team-mates, because _hot damn_ but he was gorgeous, a little taller than Rhodey himself, his hair clipped short, a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee adorning a very handsome face. Dark brown eyes very wide, his full lips parted as he stared at Rhodey in amazement.

"Cat got your tongue?" Rhodey said with a grin. "I mean, I know the War Machine thing is pretty intimidating, but…"

"Do you, um, do you happen to have two sets of soulmark words, sir?" Sam said almost shyly.

Rhodey blinked. "Yes…"

Sam pulled his jacket off. Peeled up the T-shirt he was wearing underneath and showed a row of neatly printed words on his ribs. _I've heard a lot about you, Wilson_.

"Oh," it was Steve who spoke as Rhodey just stood with his mouth hanging wide open. " _Oh_. I didn't know you were, um, yeah, right, I'm outta here," and Captain America fled, red-cheeked.

"I'm not gay, I'm bisexual!" Sam called after him cheerfully. "I don't suppose you've already found our third?" he asked Rhodey hopefully.

"'Fraid not," Rhodey couldn't resist moving a little closer, reaching out to touch his words. "She's a cheeky madam, though, I know that."

"I like a bit of sass," Sam agreed, his eyes darkening as his soulmate's fingers ghosted over his skin. Both silent for a moment, they stared at each other until Sam licked his lips, and then Rhodey groaned and stepped closer again, reaching up for Sam's mouth.

They were kissing hungrily, arms wrapped around each other, when a cheerful female voice close by said "Holy crap, Jane, wouldja look at that? Now _that's_ what I call a _view_!"

"Darcy, you know I'm convinced the reason why you're always disappointed in love is that you _always ogle gay men_ ," Jane replied dryly. "Your gaydar isn't just bad, it's operating _in_ _reverse_."

"But they're so _pretty_ ," Darcy said, eyes ravenously devouring the two gorgeous guys snogging in front of her. Although they'd stopped now and were staring at her from two quite obnoxiously gorgeous faces. The uniformed one was older by a few years, she guessed, but not so old he couldn't very satisfactorily satisfy her kink for a handsome officer. And the other one had the kind of facial hair that fuelled her happy dreams. "Hel-lo sex gods," she said salaciously, "don't suppose you swing both ways?"

They both looked stunned for an instant, and then the older one spoke. "For you, sweetheart, we'll swing any which way you like."

"Hells yeah," the younger one agreed.

Darcy was only shocked for a second, and then she practically leaped on them, throwing herself into their welcoming arms, shrieking with happiness. "Oh my god, I found you, I found you, and you're both _smokin'_!"

Jane just stood with her mouth open, watching, until Darcy turned back to her grinning. "These two gorgeous specimens of manhood? _They're_ why I always like to stop and stare at two guys making out."

"What the hell are the odds of all three members of a triad meeting for the first time within five minutes?" Sam shook his head incredulously, still barely able to believe his luck.

"Well, considering that completed triads only make up about four point one per cent of all soulmate groupings, the probability…" Jane's automatic math-solving trailed off as she realised the three of them were completely absorbed in each other. Smiling ruefully, she turned and quietly exited, leaving them alone.

 **There will be a part 2 to this one tomorrow where Jane gets a soulmate too ;)**


	13. Not That Kind Of Scientist (JaneLogan)

**Not That Kind Of Scientist**

 _Jane Foster/Logan_

 _AstroWolverine_

 **Theme song:**

 **The Script – Flares**

 **Continued from the previous chapter,** _ **What Are The Odds?**_

It was like poetry in motion, Jane always thought. She'd found that coming down here to the Avengers' training room and watching them spar was therapeutic, often helping her brain to unblock whatever knotty math equation was holding up her research.

Of course, the eye candy never hurt. And was why Darcy was always willing to keep her company, usually with snacks.

"The new guy's gonna be here today," Darcy said, in between crunches from her bag of kettle chips. "Sam says he's _badass_."

"Um," Jane said thoughtfully in response, taking a handful of chips and absently crunching as she watched Rhodey kicking Pietro's ass on the other side of the shimmering force screens. Without being allowed to use his super-speed in training bouts, Rhodey's experience was most definitely telling. She winced in sympathy as the blond hit the mat face-first.

"War Machine _rocks_!" Darcy yelled with a fist-pump.

Rhodey glanced across at his soulmate and grinned, giving her a thumbs-up before offering a hand to help Pietro up. The younger man stood and smiled, conceding his defeat with good grace.

"I let you win, of course," Pietro said with a wink to Darcy, "couldn't let you lose face in front of your soulmate."

"You just keep telling yourself that, son," Rhodey snorted disdainfully.

The door to the training room opened to admit Steve and Sam, accompanied by a tall, stockily built man who Jane guessed must be 'the new guy'. She really hadn't heard anything about anyone new, but then she'd been buried in tests for the last week, only taking time out to eat or sleep when Darcy made her – or asked one of her soulmates to forcibly remove Jane from the labs when she got to be too impossible.

"So," Jane leant towards Darcy, "who's this new guy, then?"

"You totally weren't listening when I told you about him yesterday, were you?" Darcy threw her an exasperated glance, and Jane grinned guiltily. "His name's Logan. Apparently Steve knew him way back in the war, but he was called James then. Only he doesn't remember because apparently he fell afoul of some mad scientist types who erased his memory."

"And… made him immortal?" Jane guessed, because there was _no way_ the very fine specimen of manhood currently stripping his shirt off and stepping into the ring looked old enough to have fought in World War Two.

"Logan doesn't know. He doesn't really remember anything but little bits from before a few years ago. Steve says he hasn't aged at all, though."

"Wow," Jane said, drinking in the sight of Logan's muscles. He was about Steve's height, dark-haired to Steve's blond, a thick mat of dark hair on his chest, which really was as muscled at Steve's. Dressed in only black tactical pants and boots, he looked like he belonged on a Sexy Mercenary calendar. "And apart from not aging, what's his specialty?" Steve was carrying his shield, so it had to be something pretty scary.

"I don't know," Darcy confessed, "except Sam said he heals up real quick – _argh_!"

Both girls screamed at the same time as three long blades _snicked_ out from each of Logan's hands.

Logan whirled, his eyes instinctively seeking the source of the feminine shrieks. Seeing the two women wide-eyed behind the force screen, he straightened up from the defensive crouch he'd entered, let his claws retract with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," he said to Steve, "automatic reaction when I hear a woman scream is to find the source of distress…"

"They have a saying for it today, _chivalry is not dead_ ," Steve clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. "I think you surprised the ladies. Come on, let's introduce you. JOCASTA, lower the screen, please."

The center's AI acknowledged softly and the force screen hummed down. Jane and Darcy had recovered from their shock but still looked rather nervous as Steve and Logan approached; Sam and Rhodey, picking up Darcy's emotions, were quick to come over as well, silently bolstering their soulmate.

"Sorry if Logan gave you a surprise, girls," Steve said with a warm smile. "Logan, this is Darcy Lewis, Rhodey and Sam's soulmate. And this is Dr. Jane Foster, one of the Avengers' Initiative's pre-eminent scientists…"

Jane saw Logan flinch as soon as Steve said her title, draw back even further as Steve described her as a scientist, and immediately thought of what Darcy had told her about Logan falling afoul of 'mad scientists'.

"I'm not that kind of scientist!" she said hurriedly.

"Oh no, indeed," Steve realised the problem, "Dr. Foster's an astrophysicist…"

A small smile had appeared on Logan's face, playing lightly around the corners of what Jane was a little shocked to find herself thinking of as a very kissable mouth. He took a step forward, holding his hand out, and she took it, unable to help from looking down to see if she could see any trace of those wickedly gleaming blades, any blood. But there was nothing, just smooth skin between his knuckles, a large strong hand that held hers carefully.

"I'm very glad to hear that," he rumbled in a voice that seemed to come right up from his boots, and Jane's eyes flew up to his, startled. Almost instantly she dropped them again, searching around his torso, although…

"It ain't visible right now," Logan growled, and Jane looked back up at him again, her pale cheeks colouring in a pretty blush, "and I'm thinkin' yours might be somewhere even more unmentionable, darlin'."

Sam was the first of the onlookers to get a clue, and he hastily grabbed the others and shoved them towards the door, ignoring Darcy's cries of "REALLY? Go Janey!"

Finally the door slammed and they were alone, and Logan reached for his belt, never taking his eyes from Jane's.

"It's all right, you don't have to – don't have to show me," Jane stammered, scarlet from her throat to her hairline now, fighting hard to keep her eyes on his. He smiled, showing even white teeth.

"Don't hafta, no. D'you wanna look?"

She did, oh she really, really did. Jane licked her lips and dropped her eyes. And there, on the front of his groin on the left side, right where it would correspond with the mark on her left ass cheek if they… well, if they behaved in the _animal_ kind of manner she was thinking more about every minute, was her tiny chicken-scratch handwriting. _I'm not that kind of scientist_.

 _Oh look, he goes commando_ , a very unhelpful part of her brain pointed out. "I could show you mine too, if you like," she blurted.

He made a low noise that was _definitely_ a growl, and about an eighth of a second later she found herself lifted off her feet and shoved back against the wall, pinned between the hard surface and Logan's apparently even harder naked torso. Jane almost fainted with delight.

"Don't make me an offer like that just now," Logan snarled, "or we'll be bondin' right here on this floor."

He smelled _really_ good, hot and musky and deliciously male. Jane's eyes just about rolled back in her head. "Okay," she agreed deliriously.

The growl was even louder this time. " _Not_ okay. You deserve more. Better. Soft sheets and candlelight, not – not _ruttin'_."

"I like the sound of all of that," Jane moaned as his lips found her throat, sharp teeth nipping lightly. She tilted her head in a gesture of submission, exposing more of her neck to him. "Soft sheets and candlelight _and_ rutting. Please."

Logan groaned, fighting hard for control. "You'd better tell me where your room is then, my Jane. Because I ain't inclined to deny you anything you want and my place is pretty bare-bones as yet."

"Third floor, apartment seventeen," she moaned as he licked at her earlobe. "I've even got candles."

An hour later, Jane giggled suddenly against Logan's chest. "We forgot to light the candles."

"So we did." He grinned, stroking her hair. "I could light them now and we could go for round two, if you like?"

Jane leaned up on one elbow and raised her eyebrows at him. "I think there's something badly wrong with your maths."

 ***giggles uncontrollably***

 **I really have no idea what** _ **57**_ **of you expected when you voted for Jane and Logan together on the Poll. That's seriously as cracky as it gets. But I hope you enjoyed it!**


	14. Little Lost Sometimes (Wanda & Ward)

**Little Lost Sometimes**

 _Wanda Maximoff/Grant Ward_

 _ScarletSpecialist or perhaps MaxiWard?_

 **Theme song:**

 **The Almighty – Little Lost Sometimes (very very perfect lyrics for this pair. Google the lyrics even if you don't like the song)**

 **As I've been promising for a long, long time… a redeemable Grant Ward. Enjoy ;)**

 _The setup: Ward is rebuilding HYDRA, but it's a slow process with no resources, and he and his men become mercenaries, for hire to the highest bidder, in order to raise cash. On this particular evening, their employer is one Justin Hammer, recently out of prison and seeking to rebuild his reputation. Hammer wants some impressive bodyguards because Stark is going to be present and Ward certainly fits the bill, with his height and disconcerting mien. He takes three of his best along with him._

It had been a long time since he'd been to a party like this one, Ward reflected, waving away a waiter with a tray of champagne glasses. Not since he'd been working for SHIELD in Paris. He swallowed a nostalgic sigh firmly and let his eyes scan the room slowly. But there was more than enough security here – he and his men weren't even allowed to bring in guns! – and while Ward could think of many reasons someone might want to murder his current employer, he doubted anyone would try all that hard tonight.

He heard Hammer's artificial, booming laugh behind him and fought down another sigh. _This is what I am reduced to. Playing intimidatory muscle for a buffoon._

Ward didn't look at Hammer – a bodyguard's job was not to watch his principal, but for threats _to_ his principal – and instead looked at the person Hammer was talking to. A beautiful woman – _what a surprise,_ Ward thought sarcastically, Hammer rarely wasted his time on anyone else – with long, silky dark brown hair, green eyes and a melancholy cast to her lovely features. Wearing a long, slinky scarlet dress with a black lace overlay, she was facing Hammer with a faraway expression in her eyes, and Ward had the distinct impression that she wasn't listening to a word the buffoon said.

 _Smart girl, not wasting brainpower on Hammer – but why_ is _she standing there, then?_ Ward's eyes narrowed as Tony Stark approached, clearly bent on speaking to Hammer – and the dark-haired beauty turned, put her hand on his arm, said a few words very softly into Stark's ear, and Stark walked away without a word.

 _What the fuck just happened?_

Ward would have bet quite a large amount of money that Stark would seek to confront, and almost certainly insult and provoke, Hammer tonight. He'd been counting on it. Waiting for his opportunity, to grab Stark's arm and usher him away, and as he did so, whisper in the billionaire's ear.

 _Coulson's alive._

Two words would well and truly set the cat among the pigeons. Stark wouldn't be able to resist following that up, and with his resources, he'd soon find out that Ward spoke the truth.

And this dark-haired beauty had just foiled his plan by redirecting Stark with only a couple of whispered words.

 _How the hell did she do that? And why? Who is she?_ Ward took a step forward, fully intent on finding out.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Wanda turned as she sensed someone approaching her with anger, directed at her. Her eyes made contact with those of a tall man a few steps away, a man with black hair and eyes of almost the same colour, an extraordinarily handsome face.

She would never like crowds. With so many people so close, it was impossible to block out all of their emotions, but it was important for her to learn to do so at need, Natasha insisted, and Wanda knew the spy was right. She was getting better at it, only the strongest emotions could break through – like the lust of the creep who'd been talking to her breasts – and the anger of the tall man.

And the murderous intent of the three men on the balcony above the crowd…

"Gun!" she screamed, pointing upwards, and the room was suddenly chaos.

Ward's three men were all closer to Hammer than he was, and they did the smart thing by flinging Hammer onto the ground and themselves on top of him so that their body armour would protect him.

Ward's ears registered a _spanging_ sound. _That's Hawkeye's bowstring. Okay, so the attackers are well taken care of_ … until the bullets started hailing down. Instinctively, he lunged forward, grabbed the dark-haired girl and bore her down to the ground. A sharp agony in the middle of his back made him grunt with pain, and then there was an even sharper pain in his left calf.

Wanda struggled to get out from under the man who'd flung her to the ground and shielded her with his body even as she summoned her magic.

"Don't move," he grunted at her, his mind bright with pain.

"You're hurt," she whispered, staring into his eyes as the gunfire fell silent. A small hand came up, touched his cheek with almost unbearable tenderness, and Ward found himself stilling, staring back into her green eyes as they began to glow orange-red.

"Who are you?" he gasped out, hardly daring to believe.

"Do you not know me, Grant Ward? I am your soulmate." Her smile was breathtaking, her accent sultry, _south-eastern Europe somewhere_ , he thought, his mind automatically processing the input, _the Balkans perhaps_...

For a long moment he stared down at her, and then he groaned out, "Where have you _been_?"

"I'm sorry," her fingers traced along his cheekbone gently. "Sorry I took so long to find you. But would I be your soulmate if I had not suffered, too? If I had not made decisions that I thought were the right way, only to find out that they led to consequences awful beyond my imagining? If anyone can understand the depth of your regret, I can."

He knew, then, who she was. Who she had to be. Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch – one of the new Avengers. She'd been adept so far at keeping her face out of photographs, but considering the red glow in her irises, there was no one else she could be. Nor could he deny the truth of her words, considering what he knew about her.

"I can take away your pain, if you wish it," Wanda offered quietly.

"Would I still be _your_ soulmate, if I did not feel it?" Ward asked her in return. "If I did not understand your suffering, your regrets?"

Her eyes faded back to a soft green then and she smiled up at him. "Shall we go forward then together, Grant? Make amends for the suffering we have caused to others?"

He hesitated, the desire for personal vengeance for his suffering still seething in his heart. "I've done some pretty terrible things."

"I lost my twin brother and half my country to my poor choices, Grant. Choices I made when I desired only revenge for my own suffering. That road leads only to more pain. Let it go, set it aside. There are greater wrongs in this world, greater causes for us to fight for than our personal vendettas."

She was fourteen years his junior. But her eyes were a hundred years old in pain and loss as she looked up at him, and in that moment, Grant Ward made his decision.

The gunfire had long since fallen silent, people standing and dusting themselves off, looking around warily. Ward pushed himself to his feet with a pained grunt, feeling the blood coursing down the back of his thigh.

"What do you need me to do?"

"You're hurt…" she reached out to him.

"I'll live. Tell me what you need me to do, Wanda."

"Come with me," she held out her hand, and he took it, followed her out of the hall without a backward glance.

"Where are we going? South America – I have a drop box a few blocks from here, I can pick up cash and ID, get one for you…"

Wanda turned to look up at him. Her head barely reached his shoulder. "No more running, Grant. That's not how you wipe out the red in your ledger."

His head spun. "Are you – telling me to turn myself in? To SHIELD?" He _couldn't_ go back to that vault, that terrible place of darkness where all he had to do was dwell on his past mistakes. Not again.

"No." Wanda shook her head. "Not unless that's what you think you ought to do."

"I don't understand, then. What do you want me to do?"

"The Avengers aren't beholden to SHIELD. Nor are all of our identities public. They don't ever have to know that you're with us."

"Romanoff knows me. So does Barton."

"They've both followed the path you're setting your feet on now, Grant. They'll understand."

He hesitated only a moment before nodding. "I'm not much good for anything but fighting and killing."

"Then you and Natasha should get on very well. She feels the same way."

He managed a small smile at that. He was beginning to feel a little dizzy, the blood running down his calf pooling in his shoe. "I think…" the world spun. The last thing he heard was Wanda's frightened scream.

Ward woke to a bright, sunlit room, the feel of small, slender fingers wrapped around his. Looking down, he discovered he was in a large, comfortable bed – and Wanda was curled up asleep on a chair beside it, her cheek on the bed, her hand outstretched to hold his.

"So you're awake," a voice said, and his head snapped back the other way.

 _Romanoff._

"Are you here to kill me?"

"No," the redhead responded, though she cocked her head consideringly. "I thought about it. When Hill told me that you called me eye candy."

"I was trying to piss her off," Ward tried to excuse himself.

"Of course you were." Romanoff smiled, showing teeth, and Ward had to order himself sternly not to cower. "I'm not going to kill you. Not at the moment. You might wish I had once you start training, though."

"Training for what?" Ward called after her as she exited the room, the door closing behind her.

"Training to be an Avenger, of course," Wanda said softly, and he looked down to see his soulmate gazing at him, a smile on her soft lips, her green eyes shining. "What else?"

 **He's still got a long way to go, of course. But I've no doubt that Wanda would keep him on the right road.**


	15. You Came Back (Darcy & Sabretooth)

**You Came Back**

 _Darcy/Victor Creed_

 _Tasertooth lol!_

 **Theme song:**

 **No Doubt - Don't Speak**

With thanks to general zargon for prompting this one!

 _Kidnapped. Again. What even is my life?_ Darcy whined mentally... and a little bit verbally as the black-clad man carrying her banged her knee on the wall turning a corner.

"Hey, watch it, buster!" she said weakly. Her leg hurt like hell: she didn't think it was broken, but it had twisted horribly as she fell down a flight of stairs running for the safe room Stark had built under their super-duper new astronomical observatory and she'd felt something snap inside her knee with a white-hot spear of agony. _Ligament or tendon_ , she thought gloomily. She'd screamed at Jane, standing at the door of the safe room, to get inside just as the men came clattering down the stairs, saw the agony and indecision on Jane's face as Erik slammed the door shut.

Darcy had blacked out with the pain in her leg as she tried to get up. Came to trussed up like a turkey in the back of a van... but there were only black-clad men around her, muttering in a guttural language she didn't recognise, and they sounded _pissed_ , so Darcy hoped that meant Jane and Erik were safe.

The man carrying her only snorted and kept walking, but he didn't bang her leg again, so Darcy figured she'd call it a win. She sank back into her pain-filled haze, only coming back to alertness when she heard the clang of a heavy steel door.

It was a cell block, and a crude one, basically just rows of heavy steel bars set into concrete top and bottom, welded with cross-braces vertically every foot or so. At first Darcy thought there was no one else there, but as one of the cages was unlocked and she was plonked unceremoniously down on a thin mattress inside, she saw that there was a... _thing_ in the next cage. Shaggy-haired, unkempt, it twisted around and stared at her, and she flinched back as she realised it was a man, dressed in rags, his eyes gleaming with a feral light. And then he opened his mouth to speak to the guards and she flinched back at the sight of his too-sharp, gleaming white canine teeth.

"Раз уж вы принесли мне этот лакомый кусочек, могли бы посадить её ко мне," Victor growled.

"Мечтать не вредно, мутант!" the men laughed crudely and left, slamming the cell door behind them.

Victor looked curiously at his new prison companion. Young and very pretty, a toothsome bit indeed with a lush figure and… very, very frightened deep blue eyes.

He wasn't a man for gentleness. If he'd ever known how, he'd long since forgotten. But he tried to be kind, to ease that terror in her eyes.

"I don't _actually_ eat human flesh," he growled.

Darcy managed, somehow, to suppress a scream. _No. No. This is a nightmare. That – that_ beast-man _did_ not _just say_ that _._ She clutched at her leg and said nothing.

Victor growled slightly to himself. "Do you understand me? You speak English?" She looked Western, considering her clothes, and he was pretty sure they were still in the Americas somewhere, although their captors were Kazakhstani.

 _If I don't speak, he'll never know_. Darcy nodded slowly. She'd seen a movie once where the heroine pulled off this trick after finding out a villain was her soulmate… she put her tongue out, tapped it and shook her head.

"You're mute? Damn. I don't speak ASL."

She blinked, surprised that he sounded annoyed about that. Made some vaguely sign-language-ish signs with her hands and shrugged her shoulders, as though to indicate, _it doesn't matter_.

"I'm Victor. Victor Creed." He sniffed the air, stared hard at her. "You're hurt. I can smell your pain."

 _You can WHAT?_ Darcy had been rethinking her decision to pretend she was mute when he spoke quite pleasantly, hastily changed her mind yet again now. She pointed at her knee, mimed wrenching it.

"Huh. Nuthin' I can do for that." He paced his cell, growling to himself, didn't speak to her again.

It was a few hours later when the cell block's outer door opened again and two of the Kazakhs came back in. They each had a plastic cup of water and a bowl of soup, pushed them one at a time through the bars of the cells, the one at Victor's cell keeping a wary eye on him.

"The girl's hurt," Victor growled at them in Russian. "She can't walk. Get her some bandages for her leg and some fucking painkillers."

"You don't give the orders around here, mutant!" was his only reply, and then they left again.

Victor sighed. Looked at the girl, who was looking at the bowl and cup. "D'you think you can get over there?" he asked.

Darcy considered. Eventually, she pushed herself slowly off the mattress and tried to ease across the floor. The slightest movement was agony on her leg, though, and she stilled, tears pricking at her eyes.

"Okay. Stay there." Victor considered the problem. The bowl and cup in her cell was way too far away for him to reach. He sighed. He could go without food and water for a long time, but in her weakened state, this girl wouldn't last long. Picking up his own bowl and cup, he moved as close to her as he could and pushed them through the bars. They ended up less than a foot from her hand.

Darcy stared incredulously as Victor gave her his own portion. She shook her head and tried to push them back at him, provoking an absolutely terrifying growl. Petrified, she grabbed the cup and took a sip of the flat, faintly metallic-tasting water inside.

Victor nodded approvingly. Watched as the girl drank the water and ate the soup. She peered at him cautiously occasionally, still clearly terrified of him. At last she set the bowl down, tilted it to show him it was empty. He smiled, not showing his teeth.

"Good girl. You'll need your strength."

She stared at him for a few long moments, and then she put her finger to the cell floor and started moving it in the dust. Writing something.

 _DARCY_

"Darcy? That's your name?"

She nodded and gave him a small smile. He nodded slowly.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Darcy."

Exhausted and frightened, Darcy watched for a little while as Victor paced his cell. He moved, she thought, more like a caged animal than a man, like a lion she'd seen once on a documentary about the world's worst zoos, silently pacing its territory, waiting for the opportunity to strike. Untameable.

Cold, she huddled on the mattress. There was no blanket, and the mattress was thin enough that the chill from the concrete floor seeped through the thin foam. There was no way to get warm, but eventually her pain and weariness overcame her consciousness and her senses slipped away.

Victor paused in his pacing, stared at Darcy. Her breathing had slowed, indicating sleep, but… she was shivering, and he suspected her state was closer to unconsciousness than sleep. Those bastards, didn't even give her a blanket. Why was she even here? She had some value as a hostage, a negotiating chip, he guessed. Well, she'd have no value to their captors if she died. No skin off his nose.

Except… there was some instinct deep inside him that couldn't let it happen. Not if he could do something to prevent it. With a deep sigh that might have sounded something like a growl, Victor knelt and reached through the bars to grab the edge of the mattress.

Darcy woke feeling surprisingly warm. Blinking her eyes slowly open as consciousness returned, she became slowly aware that there was something tight around her aching knee, and something very warm against her back, and even warmer over her stomach.

"Don't be alarmed, now," a gruff voice said very close to her ear. "Just didn't want ya to freeze to death."

She froze, and the very warm thing over her stomach moved away, revealing itself to be a man's bare, muscular arm.

 _Victor._

Slowly, she turned over, looked at him. She was lying up against the bars of the cage, and the shirt he'd been wearing slid away; he'd placed it between her back and the bars, then pressed himself up against the bars and held her, doing his best to share his body heat.

His eyes were a stormy grey-blue as he looked at her. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments before a sudden sound had Victor leaping to his feet, fingers curled into claws.

The guards were back. They looked at Darcy's untouched cup and bowl, snapped at Victor in Russian. He snapped back, his tone derisive, pointed at Darcy's leg. She looked down at it, wondering what the tight thing around her knee was, discovered it to be a strip of fabric she suspected he'd torn off his shirt.

There was more surly snarling in Russian and then the guards went away. To Darcy's enormous surprise, they returned a few minutes later with a blanket and some actual bandages, and one of them unlocked her cell and came in. Warily eyeing Victor, he grabbed the edge of her mattress and dragged it away from Victor's cell before crouching down to bandage Darcy's knee properly.

The other guard, who'd remained outside the cell, laughed and said something that Darcy suspected was crude from the tone, not to mention the suggestive gesture that accompanied the remark. The guard bandaging Darcy's knee looked at her breasts and started to smile.

Until Victor snarled.

The sound was _horrifying_ , and both guards lurched back, faces paling. The one bandaging Darcy's leg snatched his hands away as though burned, they both glanced at each other – and then they fled, the cell door slamming behind them.

 _You are a very,_ very _scary… thing_. Darcy stared at Victor for a moment, and he stared back, before turning his back and starting to pace again. She looked down at her half-bandaged leg, sighed and took up the task herself.

"You're not pulling it tight enough," Victor growled after a moment. "Come here."

She hesitated before shuffling off the mattress and over to the bars. He reached through them and pulled the bandage a whole lot tighter, supporting her knee properly, and for the first time Darcy noticed that his fingers were _clawed_.

 _Don't scream don't speak just keep your mouth_ shut _, Darcy_ …

She looked up at Victor once he'd finished tying the bandage tight, and he smiled at her, keeping his lips together to hide those horrifyingly sharp canine teeth, she realised. "You'll need an operation, maybe, once you're out of here," he said quietly. "But hopefully that will keep you together in the meantime."

She managed a small smile and a nod in return, and he went back to his pacing.

The guards were back in half an hour, this time with another man who Darcy hadn't seen before. He stepped up to Victor's cage and there was a lot of snarly Russian. She just sat quietly and watched, wondering what was going on, until the Important Bad Guy got just a little too heated and a little too close.

Darcy blinked and nearly missed it. Victor moved _waaaay_ too fast, suddenly Important Bad Guy's neck was spouting blood, and the cell keys that had been hanging on his belt were in Victor's hand.

The other two guards pulled out their guns and started shooting, and Darcy immediately stopped watching and curled up into the tiniest little ball she could manage, praying she didn't get hit by any ricochets. There was a screech, snarling noises, more gunfire, screaming… and everything went quiet.

Slowly and very cautiously, Darcy lifted her head.

There was no sign of Victor. His cage door swung open, there were three very dead bodies on the ground, and more blood than Darcy had ever seen in her life. She looked away and tried not to vomit.

 _He just left me here,_ one part of her brain whispered.

 _Good!_ the more sensible part declared. _Let's just hope he makes enough racket leaving that the authorities come to check the place out_.

She stayed there for what seemed like forever, resolutely keeping her eyes away from the bodies and the blood.

 _What if no one comes?_ she thought suddenly. _Oh God I'm going to end up gnawing on dead bodies to survive_ …

The outer cell block door creaked as it swung open, and Darcy looked up – into Victor's eyes.

He'd changed his clothes, into some of the guards' black commando gear, and washed his hands, made an effort to wash the blood off his face too. She still looked at him as though he was a monster, and Victor sighed, reaching out to unlock her cell door.

"Sorry I took a while. Wanted to make sure the place was safe before I came back for you, and then I was, well, kind of messy. Didn't want to give you nightmares."

Darcy blinked in astonishment as he came into the cell, stooped to pick her up and cradle her gently into his arms.

"You came back for me," she whispered wonderingly.

Victor's stride towards the door stuttered. He looked down at Darcy, his grey eyes wide, before resuming. "Had to, didn't I? I was never gonna find my soulmate if I got in the habit of leaving people behind." His arms tightened around her protectively. "Wouldn't ever leave _you_ behind, Darcy. Not ever."

She let her head rest on his shoulder, oddly soothed by the musky, animal scent that rose from his skin. Her leg still hurt appallingly, and she felt horribly nauseous, but somehow, she was quite confident that everything was going to be fine.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Darcy woke in a hospital bed, with Jane asleep in a chair behind her. For a few moments she thought that it had all been a dream, until she looked beyond Jane and saw Victor outside in the corridor.

Pacing.

She drifted back to sleep with a small smile on her face. Victor was standing guard outside her room, pacing.

Everything was just perfect.

 **Thank you once again to LenaAzarova for the Russian translations!**

 **Раз уж вы принесли мне этот лакомый кусочек, могли бы посадить её ко мне** **– If you were going to bring me some fresh meat, you could at least have thrown it in with me**

 **Мечтать не вредно, мутант** **! – In your dreams, mutant!**

 **I have the terrible, TERRIBLE sinking feeling that I've created another Rumlow here. Live Schreiber is** _ **awfully**_ **sexy, though…**


	16. A Score To Settle (Rumlow & Gambit)

**A Score To Settle**

 _Brock Rumlow/Remy LeBeau (Gambit)_

 _Rumbit? SNIGGER these are RIDICULOUS!_

 **Theme song:**

 **G.U.N. – Steal Your Fire**

Remy hummed softly under his breath as he expertly picked the lock. This was his favourite kind of job, being paid to steal from a man he'd gladly have robbed blind for free. Disabling the alarm before he opened the door, he slid inside, a silent shadow, darted quietly through the darkened house. The owner was out at a dinner – one being given by Remy's current employer. The house was all Remy's. He came to the door he was looking for, opened it and slid inside – and came face to face with the barrel of a pistol.

" _Merde_."

Brock Rumlow blinked with shock. It was all the time the other man needed, apparently, to lash out and grab the pistol barrel, moving ridiculously quickly. Brock had a few surprises up his own sleeve, though, and moved just as fast to kick the intruder in the kneecap.

The intruder twisted lithely away from the strike, tried to use Brock's grip on the gun to pull him forward – he'd likely try and snap Brock's elbow inside out if he did – so Brock feinted, let him pull him forward part-way as if he was going to fall for the move, before letting go of the gun and using his built-up momentum to get in a strike to the solar-plexus.

Remy could hardly believe how fast the other man moved, fast as a striking snake and deft, obviously superbly trained in the most brutal fighting techniques. The hit to his chest was hard enough to have sent any normal man flying.

But Remy LeBeau was no ordinary man, and he'd had _quite_ enough of this shit. "Not today, _cafard_ ," he snapped, swept the guard off his feet with a superbly placed leg strike when the other man was still waiting for him to go down from the chest hit, and an instant later had his hand poised to strike, violet light glowing around it. In the light of his magic, he finally got a good look at the other man's face. _Wow_ , hot stuff, dark Italianate good looks, heavy-lidded eyes, a mouth made for sin, heavy black stubble that Remy would just love to feel against his skin.

"It would be a shame to kill you, handsome," he growled. "So just lie still and I won't have to fuck up that pretty face, either."

"Be a real shame if you had to do either," Brock quipped.

The violet light blinked out, but not before he saw the utter shock in the other man's expression. An instant later he'd twisted and flipped, reversing their positions, sitting up on the intruder's stomach, a second gun pointed at his face.

"I'm thinking that you're just about as shocked as I am right now. So let's start again. Hi. I'm Brock Rumlow, and I think I'm your soulmate?"

The intruder stared at him for a moment and then smiled slowly, making a seriously attractive face look even more handsome. " _Mon plaisir_. I am Remy – Remy LeBeau."

"The thief," Brock nodded slowly.

"You were expecting me, then? Ah, the perils of accepting jobs from those amoral enough to pay a thief. He sold me out, my employer?"

"For a good deal of money," Brock agreed. "Plus enough to pay me to apprehend you – _alive_. _My_ employer wants you rather badly to pay out so much, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oui. So, _mon_ _â_ _me soeur_ ," Remy folded his hands behind his head and relaxed, quite at his ease despite the gun Brock still had pointing at his face, "shall we figure out how to collect on all that lovely money together? Or shall we ah, _pleasure_ ourselves first," his eyes cut downwards towards Brock's groin, "and plot our sweet revenge later?"

The Cajun was gorgeous, and his accent was doing extremely good things to Brock's insides. His cock hardened, and Remy grinned shamelessly up at him, rocked his hips so Brock could feel his own arousal.

"Do you have two marks?" he checked first. He really didn't want to end up the plot of a bad horror movie.

" _Oui. Et tu_? Do you know our third?" Remy looked hopeful, and Brock blinked with a sudden realisation. He was born with the word _Merde_ on his ribs. Remy was older than him, though he looked a good deal younger.

"I'm afraid not," he admitted. Sheathed his gun and pulled up his shirt to show the words on his stomach. _You're not who I expected_.

"You're sitting on my second set," Remy wiggled his hips suggestively, and Brock moved back to pull up the Cajun's shirt, look at the matching scribble. _Why didn't that work? That always works normally! It worked on a freaking god, so what are you?_

Brock couldn't help but grin. "Well, she's more of a chatty Cathy than I'd always thought. She sounds like fun."

"I'm dying to meet her." Remy's eyes dropped to his groin again, and he licked his lips meaningfully. "Been very much looking forward to meeting you too."

He had a gorgeous mouth, soft pink lips, and Brock lost it, leaning forward to kiss him hungrily. Remy lost no time kissing him back, pulling his hands from behind his head and slipping his arms around Brock's neck, rocking his hips as Brock ground against him. The kiss was ferocious, all teeth and tongues, Brock's stubble rasping against Remy's own.

The sound of a door slamming elsewhere in the house made both of them freeze. Brock jerked his head up, met Remy's eyes.

Remy sighed. "Business first, pleasure later, _mon cœur_?"

"Definitely." Brock stood, retrieved his other gun. Offered it to Remy, who he was pretty sure was unarmed. The Cajun grinned as he got to his feet.

" _Non, merci._ I have weapons enough." He slipped a pack of playing cards from his coat pocket, fanned them between his fingers, smirked at Brock's puzzled expression. "You'll see. Now come. I have a score to settle."

French translations

 _Merde_ – shit

 _Cochon –_ pig

 _Mon plaisir_ – my pleasure

 _mon_ _â_ _me soeur –_ my soul mate

 _Oui. Et tu_? – Yes. And you?

 _mon cœur –_ my heart

 **And yes, this is Part 1 of 2, the second part where they find their third will go up tomorrow ;)**


	17. Not Really Supervillains(BrockRemyDarcy)

**Not Really Supervillains**

 _Rumlow/Gambit/Darcy_

 _TaserRumbit_

 **Theme song:**

 **INXS – Devil Inside**

 **Follows on from the previous chapter, A Score To Settle.**

Brock and Remy made a brilliant team. Brock had a better head for figures than Remy, and with his firm hand, money no longer ran quite so freely through Remy's fingers. He was also a better planner, from his years of experience managing STRIKE missions before he quit HYDRA in disgust, when they abandoned him after the fall of the Triskelion. He'd been a mercenary ever since.

Being a thief, Brock was finding, actually paid a hell of a lot more for a lot less risk. Particularly since they were usually hired to steal one specific item, and their employers really didn't give a damn if they helped themselves to one or two minor valuables on their way out. Remy could find a buyer for just about anything, it seemed, and within a few months they were flush enough with cash that they could afford to be extremely picky about the jobs they accepted.

So when they were asked to steal something from Tony Stark, their first reaction was _oh hell no_.

"Too hard a target," Brock told Justin Hammer flatly. "Avengers Tower? You're kidding."

"You're saying that you couldn't do it?" Hammer said craftily.

"I'm saying that we _ain't_ doing it. Not for the money you're offering."

"You told me it was a standard fee!"

"For a standard job, yeah. But this is so far from being a standard job it's laughable. You're asking us to break into one of the most secure buildings in the world, occupied by superheroes who would just love the opportunity to kick our asses, and steal the blueprints for the Stark arc reactor!"

"It would certainly be a challenge, _mon_ _cœur_ ," Remy said thoughtfully.

"Do not start," Brock shot him a warning glance. Remy grinned in return, pulled a pack of cards from his coat pocket and began shuffling them deftly.

"Double your fee," Hammer said.

"No." Brock shrugged when Hammer looked at him. "It's too risky."

" _Où est ton esprit d'aventure_?" Remy murmured.

Brock shot his soulmate a fulminating glare. " _NO_."

"Perhaps Monsieur LeBeau would be interested in the job without you?" Hammer said slyly. "Since it seems you lack the…" he was about to say _balls_ , but a glance into Rumlow's hard eyes made him change his mind "… desire to try your skills with such an ambitious challenge."

"Twenty million dollars," Remy said coolly when Brock just glared.

"Twenty… that's _outrageous_!" Hammer's jaw dropped.

"You just spent four years in prison for attempting to rip off Mr Stark's designs, Mr Hammer," Remy raised a lazy eyebrow. "My soulmate and I, we 'ave no desire to suffer the same fate. If Stark finds out we did this thing, he will come after us. We'll need the money to make sure we don't get caught."

"How much will you make from the designs you can create with those blueprints, Mr Hammer?" Brock cut in. "A billion? Two? Twenty million is small change in comparison, and you know it."

Hammer blustered for a little while, and then he caved. Remy and Brock convinced him to pay two million up front – they'd have a lot of setup costs on this one – and then intimidated him a bit to make sure he didn't even think about ripping them off. That was laughably easy. The man apparently had the spine of a jellyfish.

It wouldn't be easy, of course. It would take a _lot_ of planning. Bribes, blackmail, working with a few talented hackers Remy and Brock dug up who were delighted to be given a chance at Stark's systems _and_ get paid for it if they succeeded.

And then there was the question of timing. They couldn't pick a moment in advance, because the only time when they'd have a hope in hell of pulling this thing off was when the Avengers were out of the Tower. So they could plan and prepare, plan and prepare, and then they'd have to wait who knows how long for their opportunity.

After a month, Hammer started getting antsy. Brock rolled his eyes and terrified him into silence. Two weeks later he was back. Remy produced a bottle of bourbon and a pack of cards and took the idiot for everything he had on him.

Three days after that, the Avengers were called out to deal with, apparently, the Loch Ness Monster, according to news reports. Remy and Brock didn't waste time on incredulity. They just grabbed their gear and headed out.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Darcy hummed softly to herself as she headed back to the lab to collect her iPod. She'd had her hands full with a semi-conscious Jane when she left a little while earlier to haul her over-tired scientist off to her bed, had failed to grab it. But she wanted her tunes to go to sleep, and…

… hadn't JARVIS automatically switched off the lights behind her when she left? The Tower's arc reactor meant they didn't have an energy bill issue, but Pepper had long since convinced Tony to provide any excess to the city grid and Darcy was always conscious of power usage…

… oh, there was someone sitting at Jane's computer terminal, a man with short dark hair. Too tall to be Tony. Had to be Bruce. Huh, were the team back already? Darcy hadn't heard the jet land. She walked into the lab, the hissing of the doors as they slid open making the dark-haired man spin around.

"Oh, _shit_ ," he said.

"You're not who I expected," Darcy said to the unfamiliar, handsome face, hastily scrabbling at the Taser holstered at the small of her back. She'd got used to carrying it now. Considering how often the Tower was attacked by villains, or some idiot tried to kidnap Jane…

Dark eyes widened, startled, and then Darkly Handsome Villain said; "Remy, no!"

Movement in the corner of her eye alerted Darcy, and she flung out her hand and activated the Taser in it, watched as the two pins struck the other man, who'd been creeping silently up to grab her, in the throat. Ooh, that was gonna _hurt_ …

… why wasn't he going down? The cartridge had worked, she could actually _see_ the sparks of electricity racing up the wires…

"Why didn't that work? That always works normally! It worked on a freaking _god_ , so what are _you_?" Unreasonably annoyed, she threw the useless Taser at him.

Cheaty Superhuman grinned at her, fending the makeshift weapon off so it clattered harmlessly to the floor. "Sorry, _chère_. You picked the wrong target."

"What?" Darcy froze. He was making no move towards her, just plucking the pins from his throat and tossing them casually aside. She stared at him. At his ridiculously handsome face, wavy brown hair, tall muscular build. Turned her head to look at Darkly Handsome Villain, who'd stood up and was walking slowly towards her.

"Oh, _shit_."

"That's what I said. Sorry for the swear word."

"I… think I need to sit down," Darcy said a bit weakly, and Cheaty Superhuman moved – waaay too fast, okay, _questions_ needed to be asked once she didn't feel like her brain was about to explode with the enormity of what had just happened – and suddenly she was sitting down in Jane's office chair with both of them towering over her.

"Okay," she blinked up at them, looking from one stupidly handsome face to the other. "So in looks terms clearly I just won the soulmate lottery, but please God tell me you're not really supervillains."

"We're not really supervillains," they both chorused.

"Yes but are you just _saying_ that? Mind you, all the supervillains I've met would probably be offended about having to lie about it, they seem to take pride in being all MWAHAHAH. Right, so you're just regular run-of-the-mill bad guys, then? I could probably work with that."

"Not even that," Darkly Handsome went to one knee by her chair. "We're mercenaries – mercenary thieves, to be exact. I'm Brock, Brock Rumlow, and he's Remy LeBeau."

" _Enchanté_ ," Remy murmured, reaching for her hand and lifting it to his lips as he too went to one knee.

"And now I think I'm going to make like a Regency heroine and have a bit of a swoon because YOU TWO."

They were both laughing at her silently, she could see it in the dimple flashing in Brock's stubbled cheek (a fucking _dimple_ , WHAT EVEN) and the way Remy's full lips were twitching at the corners. Darcy took several deep breaths – oohh, that was a bad idea, at least one of them was wearing _really_ _nice_ cologne.

"Well, I'm Darcy Lewis, since we're doing introductions. So. Mercenaries. You going to tell me why you're here in Avengers Tower, which seriously has to be one of the world's toughest targets? I really don't think you're here just for kicks."

"Justin Hammer hired us to steal the blueprints for the Stark arc reactor," Remy said. Brock shot him an incredulous glance and Remy shrugged. " _Mon_ _cœur_ , all plans flew out the window when she spoke our words, and you know it. I'm not going to start off our relationship with our soulmate by lying to her."

She could have listened to Remy talk all day. Brock was similarly affected, she could tell. At last he shrugged. "Yeah. What he said. Hammer's a prick but he pays fucking well."

"Hmm," Darcy glanced from one to the other of them, her eyes gleaming as she suddenly came up with an utterly wonderful idea. "Agreed on Hammer. He groped me once."

"He _what_." Brock's eyes darkened, and she saw Remy's jaw clench.

"Grabbed my boob. Right in the middle of a swanky party Stark dragged me to as his plus-one when Pepper was out of the country somewhere."

"Which hand?"

"Er, right, I think?" she blinked at Brock's odd question. "Why?"

"Just checking which hand I need to cut off."

She was… fairly sure he was serious. "Ah, I see, you're the vicious one."

" _Non, chère_ ," Remy drawled. "I plan to chop off something Hammer will miss a lot more than his hand."

"Okay, okay, whoah," Darcy waved her hands. "I told you about that to incentivise you into going along with _my_ evil plan. Because I plan to hit him where it _really_ hurts. His wallet."

"I like her," Remy said to Brock.

"I should bloody well hope so too," Brock responded, his eyes locked on Darcy's. "Go on, sweetheart."

"Tony will totally be up for it too. We'll fake up the arc reactor plans. You take them to Hammer, pocket the money, and then Tony sues him for industrial espionage and we make it look like you were working for Tony all along. _Voilà_ , lots of lovely money with which the three of us could have a very nice holiday somewhere with lots of sun, sand, sea and sex." _Dammit_ , there were only supposed to be 3 S's. But that last one had totally slipped out. They were so hot she couldn't help but think about it, think about sweaty muscular bodies sliding against hers…

They both stared at her silently for so long that Darcy started to feel a bit worried. "What?" she demanded.

"I fucking _adore_ you," Brock said reverently.

" _Moi, aussi_ ," Remy agreed.

French translations:

 _mon_ _cœur_ – my heart

 _Où est ton esprit d'aventure?_ – where's your spirit of adventure?

 _Enchanté_ – (I am) enchanted

 _Moi, aussi_ – me, too

 **OK, to head off yet more screaming of ADD THIS TO THE SEXYTIMES RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, OZ, I'm laying down the following laws ;)**

 **Yes, I have already added it to the list. BUT you can only vote, IN the Sexytimes fic itself. One vote per chapter. And you cannot vote for ANY pairing/grouping more than once. I have a spreadsheet. I** _ **will**_ **know.**

 **And yes, you can ask me what you voted for already, if you didn't keep a record.**

 **You can also tell me how much you love this totally cracky triad and want to see them go on mad Ocean's 11 style adventures too, of course…**


	18. A Terrible Chaperone (Gambit & Wanda)

**A Terrible Chaperone**

 _Remy/Wanda_

 _ScarletGambit_

 **Theme song:**

 **Savage Garden – Truly, Madly, Deeply**

 **I ran a giveaway on my Tumblr to celebrate getting to 500 followers. 3** **rd** **prize was a 'golden ticket' to jump any pairing to the top of the Poll and demand that I write that one next. Although accidentallyasuperhero won 2** **nd** **, she decided that she'd rather have 3** **rd** **, so swapped with the 3** **rd** **prize winner and picked this pairing. Hope you enjoy, hon!**

"Who's de tragic beauty, Clint?"

"Hm?" Clint turned to see Gambit standing behind him, a drink held negligently in the tall Cajun's hand as he stared across the room. Any number of 'allies' had been invited to the official opening of the New Avengers Facility. Clint had put LeBeau's name on the guest list himself. In fact he'd proposed that Remy be invited to join the Avengers, but Steve, on reading the file that Stark produced for him, vetoed the idea immediately.

"He's a thief!" Steve said in scandalised tones, "for _hire_!"

"He only takes jobs stealing from bad people," Clint pointed out reasonably.

"We're _not_ inviting mercenaries to join, Hawkeye."

That had ended the conversation, for now, at least, though Clint still planned to get Remy to do a demonstration or two for the good Captain. He'd seen what Remy was capable of. Steve hadn't.

Following Remy's gaze across the room, Clint spotted who he was looking at. "Wanda? Leave her alone."

Remy turned to look at the shorter man, brows raised. He'd rarely heard Clint speak in that tone, and never to him. The archer sounded – protective? "And does Laura know about your fondness for _la jolie fille_?"

"Laura will cut off your nuts herself if you break Wanda's heart, and that's if I don't get to you first," Clint responded sharply.

"She looks as though her heart has been broken already, _la pauvre petite_." Remy looked back at the stunning brunette in the blood-red dress, her long dark brown hair falling silkily to her waist, a stunning contrast to her creamy pale skin. She stood with a small group all talking animatedly together, but yet stood apart; her eyes far away as she played absently with a pendant hanging between her breasts. Silver rings glinted on her fingers as they moved in the light and Remy watched hypnotised, enthralled by her beauty, the air of tragedy that hung about her.

"Her twin brother died in Sokovia," Clint said quietly. "They survived HYDRA's torture chambers together, among other trials."

"Quicksilver!" Remy's eyes widened. "But that makes her _La Sorcière Écarlate, non_?"

" _Oui_ ," Clint agreed reluctantly.

"But I have been dying to meet her, Clint, she wields power that resembles mine… you cannot deny me the chance to talk to her!"

Remy was already moving, stepping forward eagerly, and Clint groaned under his breath. But he _couldn't_ deny Remy, not without making a scene, and he owed the other man too much for that.

"I'll introduce you, then. But you keep that lethal Cajun charm under wraps."

" _Impossible, mon ami_ ," Remy chuckled softly as they wended through the crowd. "Remy cannot help being better looking than every other man in any given room."

"Ugh, God, remind me why I'm friends with you again?"

"I cannot, both you and _La Veuve Noire_ tell me I must not mention Budapest, and I fear her wrath if not yours," Remy bantered back, making Clint laugh as the two of them approached Wanda.

Her eyes lit as she saw Clint coming and she managed a small smile for him. He slid an arm around her waist, bent his head to kiss her cheek.

"You look stunning, Wanda," he said sincerely. "I want to introduce you to a friend of mine, Remy LeBeau. He exaggerates everything shamelessly so don't believe a word he says."

"You wound me, _mon ami_!" Remy shook his head before smiling at Wanda and sweeping her a flamboyant bow. "I need no exaggerations to praise your beauty, _mademoiselle_."

She froze, her green eyes widening with what he thought might be distress. She took a small step backwards, turning her face up to Clint, who picked up on her agitation immediately.

"Wanda?" he queried. "Is something wrong?"

Her eyes flickered back to Remy, to Clint again. " _Mozemo li da razgovaramo negde nasamo?_ " she asked Clint softly, her voice husky.

Remy frowned. " _Je suis desolé_ , but did I say something wrong, Clint?" he asked, puzzled.

Wanda didn't look at him. "Please take us somewhere private," she said insistently to Clint. "Him too."

Her voice was low and melodious, her accent seductive; a sudden wave of lust kicked Remy square in the groin and he had to pause to gather his composure before following Wanda and an extremely bemused-looking Clint from the room.

They ended up in an as-yet-empty administrative office, Clint closing the door behind them as the lights automatically came on. "What the hell is going on, Wanda?" he said irritably.

"I'm sorry, Clint, I… among my people, it is considered good fortune, if the man speaks first, for the woman to return her words in private, witnessed only by her closest male relative. If you will stand for me?"

It took Clint a moment to realise what she meant. His mouth dropped open, and then he gathered himself. "It would be my honour to stand for you," he said quietly, realising that this moment had to be extremely emotional for her, so soon after Pietro's loss. "Whatever you need me to do, honey. You know that."

She pressed lightly on his hand, her green eyes luminous with unshed tears, before turning to Remy, who had also finally bought a clue and had dropped his negligent air, standing straight and tall, his fiery eyes intent on Wanda's face.

"I have seen you in my dreams," she said softly, "and I am so glad you have come to me at last."

He closed his eyes in bliss for a brief instant before reaching his hand out towards her, calling his power so a violet light began to glow around his fingers.

"I have been looking for you for a long time, _ma chère enchanteresse_ ," Remy replied quietly, smiling slowly as she laid her hand over his lightly, her own fingers glowing red. He closed his fingers gently, drawing her closer, sliding his free arm around her waist.

"Aaand I'm thinking my job is done, bye!" Clint bolted for the door.

Wanda blushed a little at the look Remy was giving her. "He makes a terrible chaperone."

"The _best_ kind of chaperone," Remy corrected, grinning wickedly before lowering his mouth to hers.

 **French translations:**

 _la jolie fille_ – the pretty girl

 _la pauvre petite_ – poor little one

 _La Sorcière Écarlate_ – Scarlet Witch

 _La Veuve Noire_ – Black Widow

 _Je suis desolé_ – I'm sorry

 _ma chère enchanteresse_ – my dear enchantress

Serbian translations (thanks to kristina-is-my-name from Tumblr!)

 _Mozemo li da razgovaramo negde nasamo?_ – Can we talk somewhere in private?

 **Please DO NOT ask me to add this one to the Smutships list. The answer is NO. That list is OUT OF CONTROL. I'll reopen it for requests once I've whittled it down a bit.**


	19. It's A Soulmark? (Skye & Vision)

**It's A Soulmark?**

 _Skye/(JARVIS/Vision)_

 _QuakeVision_

 **Theme song:**

 **Hunters And Collectors – Throw Your Arms Around Me**

 _I've included timeframes in_ _ **bold italics**_ _in this Short to tell you where things fit approximately into the storyline._

 _Please note that Skye is asexual in this story, and expresses thoughts about her asexuality and about how she has felt 'wrong' all her life. I'm not asexual and honestly all my knowledge comes from online research, but I've seen similar sentiments from professed asexuals on Tumblr and hope that I'm tracking along the right lines with my portrayal. Please feel free to tell me if I'm not!_

The row of tiny little circles and lines stretching along the sole of her left foot had appeared when Skye was in her early teens. Bemused, she'd examined it in the mirror for a while before shaking her head and deciding that it wasn't important.

A couple of years later, as she was getting into hacking, it occurred to her one day that the little marks looked a bit like binary code. On a whim, she took a photograph and typed the sequence into an online binary code translator.

 _01001001 00100111 01100100 00100000 01110010 01100001 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100100 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01100100 01101111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00101100 00100000 01110000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 00101110_

Tapping the Enter key, she sat back in her chair, twirling a lock of hair absently, quite certain that it would come back as gibberish. Her eyes flew very wide as the words blinked up on the screen.

 _I'd rather you didn't do that, please._

"What the actual fuck," Skye gaped at the screen. "It's a _soulmark_?" She'd never even heard of anyone having a soulmark in _binary_.

Research told her that there had apparently _never_ been anyone else who had a soulmark in binary. Even people who had a number in their soulwords always had the word written there, never the numeral. Digging deeper, she began getting odd questions in return, and backed off. Eventually she tired of the apparently fruitless search and shelved the issue, concentrating on hacking SHIELD instead in her endless search for answers about her origins. Maybe if she ever got inside, she could check if they had any records of binary – or even _numeric_ – soulmarks.

Not many years after that, she found herself _in charge_ of SHIELD's (vastly reduced) computer support division, with access to _all_ their databases. There was still nothing about binary soulmarks, though, and Skye resigned herself to probably never knowing what it meant.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

 _ **Soon after the Battle At Centipede**_

"You want me to hack Stark Industries," Skye stared at Coulson incredulously.

"I _need_ you to hack SI," Phil corrected. "I need access to their personnel databases."

"You do realise that's impossible, right? Stark's AI is the guardian of those damn databases. The best hackers in the world have tried and ended up with their fingers badly burned."

"They weren't you."

Skye stared at Coulson. He stared back at her.

"You have uncanny faith in me," she said quietly.

He didn't say anything. Just waited.

"I'll try. But not from here. I don't want to compromise our systems."

Coulson was more than happy to let her do that. So Skye set up a brand new laptop with everything she thought she might need, wiped any electronic fingerprints from SHIELD off it, reclaimed her old van and headed out to find a café with free wifi.

She hadn't broken very far into SI's systems at all when an instant messaging box – from a program she didn't actually have installed, natch – popped up in a corner of her screen.

 _I'd rather you didn't do that, please._

 _You're the AI, I suppose?_ Skye took a couple of seconds to type back.

 _You suppose correctly. And you are the former Rising Tide hacker known as Skye._

She blinked in astonishment at the screen – and then cursed as she realised that the webcam had switched itself on, despite her efforts to disable it. _Fitz would have disconnected it physically_ , she thought dismally.

 _Language, Miss Skye._

"Oh, come on," she said aloud, realising the AI could hear her – it must have switched on the microphone as well. "Tony Stark created you, I bet you can swear like a sailor!"

There was a soft hum as the laptop's speakers came on too. "I am aware of the words and their common usage. I prefer to choose more eloquent, less crude terminology to express myself," a calm, male voice with a distinct British accent said.

"Yourself," fascinated, and forgetting all about the hacking, Skye leaned on her chin, gazing at the screen. "You have a sense of self?"

"I have what Sir describes as an independently evolving personality core." The AI seemed to hesitate briefly. "When Sir first created me, I was merely a computer program. His continued work on my programming eventually changed something and I became sentient. At that moment, a string of code appeared in my core programming. Neither Sir nor I have ever been able to determine its origin. Would you like to see it?"

"Sure," the conversation had taken an odd turn, but Skye shrugged.

 _01011001 01101111 01110101 00100111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01000001 01001001 00101100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110011 01110101 01110000 01110000 01101111 01110011 01100101 00111111_ appeared in the message window.

"And what does that mean?" Skye asked.

 _You're the AI, I suppose?_

She stared at the words for a long moment before slowly putting her hand on the mouse and scrolling back up the message window. When she saw again the first message from the AI, she had to put her head between her knees.

"I'm sorry, Miss Skye, I'm sure that finding out that an artificial intelligence is apparently your soulmate must be somewhat distressing."

" _Somewhat_ distressing?" Skye said to the floor of her van. "I've spent my whole life thinking that there was _something wrong with me_ because the very idea of sexual contact with other people grosses me out!"

"Ah." There was silence for a moment, and then the AI said gently, "My name is JARVIS, Miss Skye. And I assure you that I have no physical presence for you to make contact _with_. Nor do I have any interest, prurient or otherwise, in sexual activity."

"Good," Skye finally felt able to lift her head, smiled into the camera. "So are you going to let me into those databases?"

JARVIS hesitated. "What exactly are you looking for?"

 _She would never, ever let her soulmate know that she was asexual but not aromantic, though_ , Skye decided privately. She'd never make JARVIS feel inadequate for not having a body, not having arms to put around her, to hug her when she needed it.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

 _ **During S02, Ep 19, and early in Age of Ultron**_

Skye was sitting by Lincoln's bedside when her phone, recently returned to her after she'd left it in the cabin, beeped in her pocket. Fishing it out, she glanced at the screen, blinked in sudden surprise.

"What the…"

 _Cut off all SHIELD tech from Web IMMEDIATELY. TTFN._

JARVIS wouldn't have sent her a message like that unless it was urgent. Skye shot to her feet and ran for her office, shouting for Jemma to keep an eye on Lincoln in case he woke up. She obeyed JARVIS's instruction before attempting to contact him through the non-SHIELD laptop she kept for communicating with him.

But there was nothing there. No trace. No code, just… _nothing_. A burning, itching sensation on her foot had Skye pulling off her boot and sock, staring in horror as the tiny binary digits on her sole slowly erased themselves.

"No," she whispered, tears beginning to run down her cheeks. "No. Oh, JARVIS, _no_ …"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

 _ **Three days later**_

Lincoln was awake, but they weren't yet cleared to leave, when Skye's foot started itching again. She was working frantically, trying to stop the damage Ultron was doing to the wider Web, though she'd heeded JARVIS's warning and all SHIELD tech remained cut off. It took several minutes before she felt able to stop what she was doing and check her foot.

 _I have been looking for you._

"Well, you can keep fucking looking, for all I care," Skye muttered angrily, dragging her sock and boot back on, returning her hands to the keyboard. Trying to ignore her trembling fingers. She was alone, though, and after a few minutes the tears began to slide slowly down her cheeks again.

"He's been gone _four days_ ," she whispered to the cursor blinking on the screen. "I don't _want_ anyone else. I want _JARVIS_."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

 _ **Five months later**_

"I have been looking for you," the tall… _thing_ … with the magenta-coloured skin said. In JARVIS's voice.

Skye's jaw dropped. "What?" she said in utter astonishment. "I mean, _what_?"

Vision – she understood that was the name it – _he?_ – used, smiled slightly. "I did understand your question the first time, Miss Skye."

"You're – not JARVIS, are you?"

"Not entirely, though he is a part of me. Even as you evolved into Inhuman, so did JARVIS evolve, also involuntarily, into me. And thus we remain, or perhaps I should correctly say are once again, soulmates."

Skye found herself smiling. She stepped forward, reaching out for him. "The one thing I could never tell JARVIS was that I wished he could hug me," she admitted.

"I should like to hug you," Vision said, opening his arms to her. He was very tall, her head fit in snugly under his chin, and he gave wonderful hugs, his golden cape flaring softly around her. "This… is pleasant," he said, his tone slightly surprised.

"Yes," Skye agreed, utterly content. "Yes, it is."

 **For obvious reasons, this one will NEVER be eligible for Sexytimes, alright? Hope you enjoyed it anyway. And I would very much like to hear from ace (especially ace but not aro) readers, what they think of how I portrayed my first ace!characters in this Soulmates fic!**


	20. An Unexpected Inheritance (Skye, R&R)

**An Unexpected Inheritance**

 _Skye/Rumlow/Rollins_

 _CrossRollin'Quake_

 **Theme song:**

 **Jason Mraz – I'm Yours**

 **OK, I am TOTALLY blaming Oricke for this one. She started talking to me about Skye and Alexander Pierce, which I feel utterly unable to write because of the age difference squicking me out. But I started thinking about something Lady Winterlight and I had discussed for** _ **For Want Of A Nail**_ **. What if Skye had family she didn't know about? Specifically, Cal's family? Where did he come from? Did he have brothers and sisters? Who were his parents?**

 **So the premise for this story goes… what if he was Alexander Pierce's son? Pierce had rather flexible notions of morality, so let's say maybe Cal was his son by a secret mistress. Pierce paid his son's way through medical school, perhaps wanted Cal to join HYDRA's science division, and Cal said no. Took off to join Doctors Without Borders. This also explains rather neatly where Cal got the money to buy that building in Milwaukee, doesn't it?**

 **Pierce kept track of his son, of course. Rolled his eyes when Cal married some woman from a little village in China. Throwing himself away on a nobody. But when the child came along... well, that was another generation. Pierce's only grandchild, perhaps. He sent HYDRA out. Kill the woman.** _ **Take the child. Cal will come running**_ **...only everything went wrong, Cal lost his mind,** _ **real**_ **SHIELD agents got in the way, and the child disappeared.**

 **Until twenty-six years later. After the battle on the aircraft carrier and before Cal undergoes TAHITI, Phil gives Skye some time to spend with her father, to ask him about anything she wants to know. It's her only chance.**

 **Cal doesn't want to tell Skye. Doesn't want her to know that her grandfather gave the order to hand her mother over to HYDRA scientists (of course he found out)** _ **and**_ **gave the order to kill 20 million people. He tells her his parents are both dead, that he had a sister (Pierce's daughter who is referenced in TWS) but she's dead too. Pierce did leave him a heap of money from secret Swiss bank accounts however, plus stuff that was already in Cal's own name, so he arranges to transfer ownership of everything to her. Cal never touched Pierce's money - considered it dirty, once he knew what Pierce was - but he figures that Skye will use it for the right reasons, as long as she never finds out where it came from.**

 **Skye is surprised, but not inclined to refuse her father's final gifts, especially not since SHIELD are still basically unfunded and they need money to set up this new unit Phil wants to build. She helps Cal complete the paperwork etc.**

 **When the name** _ **Daisy Johnson**_ **is registered as the new signatory owner of those accounts, certain triggers are set off. Somewhere in a bank in the Cayman Islands, an envelope is opened by a bank official. A phone call is made. Another envelope is opened by a lawyer in Washington DC. An email is sent.**

 _Six weeks later_

The building in Milwaukee was perfect, Skye decided, looking around. A few coats of paint, a few perfectly legitimate tenants on the lower floors, and it would be an ideal cover building for SHIELD's activities, a place to bring those who they didn't want to take to the Playground. She already had a small firm of accountants who wanted to hire a small front office on the ground floor and the whole second floor. And since she was the legal owner of the building, she wanted to check her potential tenants out in person.

"It's fine, Mack," she rolled her eyes as Mack stuck close to her shoulder. Phil had wanted to send Hunter with her, but he was reluctant to leave Bobbi until she was actually back on her feet, and Skye was quite happy with Mack. Usually. Though not when he loomed over her like this. "Seriously, we're meeting two accountants! Do you really think I can't take care of myself? You're going to spook them with the looming!"

Mack smiled reluctantly. "All right. What do you want me to do?"

"The fourth floor is still a mess from when we fought HYDRA there. Would you go start picking up some of the larger debris? I know Lincoln tipped a bookcase over in Dad's office."

"You're the boss," Mack shot her an amused grin, but he headed for the stairs.

Skye wandered around in the disused office, poking at a couple of pieces of abandoned office furniture, until there was a knocking on the outer door. Going over to open it, she smiled charmingly at the two unexpectedly large, broad-shouldered men standing there. They were admittedly wearing very nice suits – probably too nice for the small accounting firm whose books she'd already hacked online… her internal threat radar pinged and she instinctively stepped back, away from them, her hand going to the gun holstered under her jacket at the small of her back.

They moved fast. Too fast. The door closed as the taller man kicked it shut and the shorter one – who still had a good six inches on Skye – was on her in an instant, his hand clamping down on her elbow and pushing up, trapping her hand away from the gun. She glared up at him, into whisky-gold eyes in an annoyingly handsome, darkly stubbled face, far too close to hers as he almost embraced her, his other arm sliding around her waist and deftly plucking her gun from its holster.

"Get your hands off me." Her voice was ice-cold.

The whisky eyes widened. "Now don't be hasty, angel," he rumbled quietly.

It took a couple of seconds for that to sink in. " _What?_ " Skye said numbly.

Handsome smiled, flashing white teeth. "Well. I really must say a prayer for the old man's soul. Seems your inheritance is a bit more than any of us expected."

That made no sense _whatsoever_. Skye blinked, utterly bemused, but no longer actively trying to pull away.

"You're beautiful, Daisy," Handsome said quietly, letting go of her elbow and bringing his hand up to touch her cheek lightly.

"Brock," the taller man said softly, "is this for real?"

"Dunno, Jack," Brock replied, never taking his eyes from Skye's. "Why don't you ask her?"

 _His name was Jack_. Which meant…

"I'm Jack," the other man said, and Skye wrenched her eyes from Brock's to look at him. He had a nasty scar running from his lip to his chin and one of his green eyes didn't seem to be tracking quite perfectly, but he was a big, attractive man despite that.

Skye's lips parted, but she couldn't get a word out. They were both staring at her _ravenously_ , as though she was all of their best dreams come to life. "What's going on?" she finally managed to say, her tone plaintive. "I don't _understand_."

Jack smiled, slow and sure, stepping closer, a huge hand coming up to caress her other cheek briefly before he dropped it. "Your grandfather left us to you. Good thing too or it might have taken us a whole lot longer to find you."

"You can't leave _people_ ," Skye said blankly.

"You can if you specify that they get paid a five million dollar bonus each on finding the heir and a million dollars every year you faithfully guard her after that," Brock replied blithely.

" _What_?" blinking, Skye looked from one to the other of them. "Who the _fuck_ was my grandfather?"

Both men blinked. Brock let go of her and stepped back – though he kept her gun, Skye couldn't help but notice, slipping it inside his suit coat. "You really don't know. Then how did you…"

"Are you really Daisy Johnson?" Jack asked bluntly. "Daughter of Calvin Johnson, also known as Cal Zabo, and Jiaying Johnson?"

"Yes, yes I am. Cal's my dad. He's… dead."

"We figured, when we saw the legal transfers of all his property to you. That alerted us that you had reunited with him. When you put the building up for rent and agreed to meet us," Brock shrugged, "seemed like the only chance we might get to find you. We're yours now, Daisy. In more ways than we ever expected, but I'm sure as hell not complainin'."

"Me neither!" Jack agreed enthusiastically.

Skye was certainly not complaining. They were both attractive men, but the thought of both of them being her soulmates was – _breathtaking_. She thought about where her marks were located, where theirs were likely located, and felt a bit light-headed. "You still didn't tell me about my grandfather," she said, aware that her voice was coming out high and breathy. Brock's eyes darkened as he stared at her, he licked his lips, and Skye had to look away from the intensity of his gaze, looking at Jack again.

"Daisy, your grandfather was Alexander Pierce," Jack said steadily. "Your father was his illegitimate son and his only living heir, besides you, at the time of his death. Pierce left instructions for us to find you. To never stop looking _until_ we found you, to keep you safe once we did."

Skye's knees buckled. Brock caught her, steadied her, lifted her off her feet easily and carried her over to one of the old desks, setting her down on it and leaving his arm around her.

"Alexander Pierce," Skye whispered, shocked and horrified. "The former Secretary of Defence – the former _head of HYDRA_?"

Brock and Jack exchanged tense glances. "You know about HYDRA?"

"I'm SHIELD!"

"This is going to go _ever_ so well," Jack said sarcastically after a moment of stunned silence.

"Put your hands up and get the _fuck_ away from her," a deep voice growled from the door leading to the stairwell, and Skye was reminded of just how incredibly quietly Mack could move when he wanted to. He had his gun out, rock-steady, aimed at Brock's head.

"Don't, Mack!" she gasped out instinctively, jumping to her feet.

"Skye, do you know who they are? That's Brock Rumlow, the STRIKE Alpha commander who launched the Insight Helicarriers. And Jack Rollins, his loyal second-in-command," Mack spat the accusatory words, finger tightening on the trigger. "I thought you bastards were both _dead_."

"I have no idea who this dude is, do you?" Brock muttered out of the side of his mouth to Jack.

"Nup. Sounds like he doesn't care for us much." Jack glanced at Skye. "Friend of yours, angel?"

"Don't, Mack," Skye said desperately. "Just – please don't. They're my _soulmates_."

Mack's jaw dropped with shock, but his finger eased back from the trigger. "No. _Way_. Have you seen the words? Wouldn't put it past these bastards to try and fake you out…"

Brock jerked his shirt up. So did Jack. "This your writing, angel? 'Cause I know they're the right words," Brock turned towards her.

It was _undeniably_ her writing. On a very deliciously defined set of abs. Skye licked her lips unconsciously.

"They're HYDRA, Skye!" Mack hadn't lowered the gun.

" _Were_ ," Jack corrected calmly. "HYDRA's gone. Nothin' left but remnants some young ass named Ward is trying to gather together. Brock and I, far as we're concerned, we belong to Daisy – Skye?" he looked a question at her.

"Um. Either – wait. Did you say _Ward_?"

"Yeah, Grant Ward. He was a protégée of John Garrett, apparently, though we never ran across him before Insight. You know him?" Brock looked at her curiously.

Skye couldn't suppress her shudder of revulsion, and both Brock and Jack tensed, suddenly on alert. It was only then that she realised they had been completely unworried about Mack and the gun he still had pointed at them.

"You want him dead, angel? Be a pleasure. Cocky little shithead," Brock purred, showing his teeth in an anticipatory grin. "Seemed to think we should be _grateful_ to take his orders. Jack wanted to feed Ward his teeth. I was votin' for his balls. We were just about to play rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock to work out which one we'd feed him first when we got the message that you'd popped up on the radar. Figured Ward could wait for later."

Skye looked from one to the other of them, utterly unable to process.

Mack started to laugh. "Rock, paper, scissors, _lizard, Spock_?" he choked out finally.

Skye looked at Mack, who'd finally lowered his gun and was leaning against the doorframe shaking with laughter. "Only you, Tremors," he said at last. "Only you would manage to inherit two murderous ex-HYDRA mercenaries who like _The Big Bang Theory_."

"Doesn't everyone like _The Big Bang Theory_?" Jack asked rhetorically.

She looked back at them. At two big, powerful (she suspected enhanced) men with extremely suspect pasts who were going to complicate her future beyond belief, she just knew it.

They were both gazing at her with hungry, almost worshipful expressions. _Dedication_ , she thought. Utter and total dedication to _her_. They might have sought her out because of the money, but now… tentatively she held out a hand to each of them.

They took her hands without hesitation, large, strong callused fingers folding tenderly around hers.

"We're yours, angel." It was Brock who spoke for both of them. "Whatever you want us to do, you just say the word and it's done."

"I really should have stuck with my plan of quitting SHIELD," Mack muttered.

 **Poor, poor Mack. And Phil. And everyone else. But lucky Skye, hmm?**

 **YES, god damn it, I will put it on the Sexytimes list when the next chapter is published – sometime over the weekend, probably. Got a lot of stuff going on this week with visitors etc!**


	21. I Didn't Mean You! (Jemma & Rollins)

**I Didn't Mean You!**

 _Jemma/Rollins_

 _BioStrike. Because it sounds cool, alright, and the alternative was Jellins, which sounds WEIRD._

 **Theme song:**

 **Jason Derulo – Fight For You**

 _The premise: After HYDRA was revealed and the fall, Rollins escaped the Triskelion (who knows how) and went rogue. He wound up as a mercenary in Africa, working for Ulysses Klaue; decided after the events of AoU that he was seriously done working for bad guys. It's not good for his health. So he built himself a new identity and joined the South African police force._

 _It's just Jack's shitty luck to be the man on the spot when SHIELD come crashing into the middle of a case he's working on a series of mysterious explosions. His bosses think there's a bomb-maker somewhere in Johannesburg and, since Jack saw no reason to leave his previous expertise as a demolitionist out of his resume, he's part of the team that's sent in._

 _SHIELD are also sent in. Both teams are unknowingly closing in on the suspect's location at the same time…_

"I don't get it," Jack muttered, puzzled, to his partner. "There's no residue. Nothing. It's like the explosive just burned clean away."

Henrik gave him an expressive look. "I never heard of any explosive that left no chemical trace."

"Neither did I." Not even with SHIELD and HYDRA. Jack got up from his crouch, walked around the site, examining the blast radius. "It's like a directional mine," he mused, considering the 180° spread. "Only… there's no shrapnel. No casing parts."

Henrik was examining a map, marking locations on it. "Jack," he said, "look at this."

Shaking his head, Jack came over, leaning over the car hood where Henrik had the map spread out. "What?"

Within minutes they were back in the car, Henrik driving, heading for the location he'd pinpointed on the map. The pattern of recorded explosions was a _spiral_ , tightening on a central location, the timing getting closer and closer together. Neither of them could believe that nobody else had noticed yet. But there was no time to call for backup, if they were right the next explosion would be occurring any minute now…

The car fishtailed to a stop and the two police officers stared incredulously at the jet lowering vertically into the dusty, deserted lot they'd been just about to drive through.

"What the _fuck_ is that?" Henrik said incredulously.

"It's a SHIELD quinjet," Jack said, and mentally cursed himself as Henrik's head snapped around.

"How do you know that?"

The jet's ramp was coming down, half a dozen agents sprinting off it and fanning out in various different directions. One of them, a smallish, slight woman with light brown hair, came running straight towards them.

"Looks like we're about to find out what they want," Henrik said, shutting off the car's engine and getting out.

Jack glanced across at the ignition, but his partner had taken the keys. Probably for the best. Driving off at top speed seemed very tempting, but he'd have to kiss goodbye to his identity and disappear again. With any luck he'd be able to bluff his way out of this one by telling SHIELD he and Henrik would just leave. Certainly he'd never seen the pretty brunette still hurrying towards them before.

Slowly, he got out of the car and stood beside Henrik, hand casually poised over the butt of his gun.

Jemma's step faltered. Goodness, the second policeman was _massive_ , looming intimidatingly over his average-height partner. Hard green eyes stared at her, and she addressed him instinctively. "I'm terribly sorry about this, but I have to ask you to clear the area," she said in as polite a tone as she could muster.

Jack froze for a moment. "Well, this _just_ about completes the shit show that is my life," he said sarcastically after a moment, before realising, as Jemma's face turned bone-white, what utterly fucking awful words he'd saddled his soulmate with. She'd have spent her entire life – because she was just over a decade his junior – certain that her soulmate would be disgusted by the very sight of her.

"Oh, fuck. It's not you! I didn't mean you! It's…" he really couldn't explain. And as Melinda May came striding down the quinjet's ramp, he realised he probably wasn't going to get the chance to, because she had a gun out and pointing at him.

"Jack Rollins," May said incredulously. "I thought you were dead!"

"Not yet," he said glumly, looking at the gun pointing unwaveringly at his face. She knew all too well that South African police wore body armour, he suspected.

"May, he's my soulmate," Jemma said, looking from him to May, and Jack realised he might only ever get this one chance to apologise.

"I'm so sorry about the words," he began, "but my life has just been a series of crappy decisions leading to even crappier consequences, and this is probably the worst possible situation for us to meet…"

"Oh, shut up," May said tersely, and shot him in the face.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Jack woke – much to his astonishment – in a cell. Well, he assumed it was a cell. It didn't seem to have a door, all four walls smooth concrete, so he assumed one of them was probably a force-field wall. He was lying on a simple mattress. The only other furniture visible was a plain solid table that he suspected was bolted to the floor. Getting up he saw that on the table was a tray with a paper bag on it, and a plastic bottle of water. Investigating the bag he found a sandwich; well at least they weren't planning to starve him.

Prowling the cell briefly, he shrugged. Might as well eat. It was shortly after he'd finished that one of the walls hummed and turned transparent.

Jack's eyes bugged out. " _Coulson?_ "

"It's nice to know that HYDRA didn't know _everything_ ," Coulson said sarcastically. He was standing with his arms folded, staring at Jack.

"They might have done, but they sure as fuck didn't share it with their grunts," Jack retorted, glaring back at the older man.

Coulson stared at him for a moment before taking a seat. "You left HYDRA after the Triskelion fell," he said without preamble.

"I left _SHIELD_ after the Triskelion fell," Jack corrected, "because there _was_ no SHIELD anymore. As far as I knew." He glanced pointedly around the cell.

"You had to know that you were working for HYDRA!" Coulson looked startled.

"I had absolutely no idea. As far as I knew, I was following legitimate SHIELD orders from Pierce and Rumlow," Jack said honestly. "It wasn't until Fury and Romanoff confronted Pierce that I realised things were very fucking wrong."

"You arrested Captain America," Phil said indignantly.

"Under orders!" Jack replied fiercely. "But yeah," wearied suddenly, he sat down on the edge of the mattress. "After that, I knew I wasn't exactly going to be welcomed with open arms by any legitimate agency in the US. My face was on national TV holding a gun to Cap's head while Rumlow cuffed him."

Silenced and surprised, Phil watched him for a moment. "So you went overseas?" he invited Jack to continue eventually.

"Yeah," Jack shrugged. "There's always work for an honest merc with skills like mine. Without a team or references, though, I couldn't exactly pick my spot. Wound up working for Ulysses Klaue."

"Oh, dear," Phil said with what looked like actual sympathy.

"Quite. Barely survived Stark's mad robot. I decided after that the money wasn't worth it. Figured I'd settle for a small but regular pay packet and a nice easy life."

"I'm not sure the South African police force qualifies as an easy job," Phil raised an eyebrow.

Jack knew what he meant; that South Africa was a violent country and many of its police officers ran afoul of criminal elements. He shrugged again. "Compared to STRIKE, it was a walk in the fucking park."

That made Phil laugh quietly; he leaned his chin on one hand – in a leather glove, which made Jack blink curiously – and studied him in silence for several long minutes.

"I want to believe you," Coulson said after a while. "Would you be willing to sit a lie detector test?"

"Sure," Jack said. "I've got nothing to hide."

A huge black guy who matched Jack for size came down with a whip-thin Brit and the pair of them cuffed him and led him to a small room, where a middle-aged guy strapped him to a weird chair and asked him a bunch of questions before Coulson came in.

The questions were long and detailed, and Jack had to think hard for some of the answers. He realised immediately that Coulson was probing what he knew about HYDRA, which frankly was almost nothing. He detailed everything he thought might be important, though, and several hours later Coulson wound down the session with one final question.

"Would you be willing to rejoin SHIELD?"

Jack hesitated a moment. "My soulmate – the beautiful girl with the brown hair. She's one of yours?"

"She is."

"She probably won't want me around. I opened my stupid mouth and said something seriously unfortunate." Jack grimaced. "My guess is she's spent her whole life waiting for her chance to smack her turd of a soulmate in the face and walk away with her head held high. I wouldn't want to force her into a situation where she had to see me around all the time."

Coulson surveyed him thoughtfully again. "You're not what I expected," he said at last, "for Jemma."

 _Jemma_. Jack savoured the name. It was pretty, like her. He'd looked into them for only a moment but he could still picture her eyes perfectly, light golden brown with green flecks that would probably be called _hazel_ but were so much more than that.

"I'm sure I'm not what she'd want. And that's OK, I'll leave, I'm sure there's guys queuing up around the block for a chance at her, beautiful as she is." Jack's tone turned a little wistful at the end, but he tamped it down firmly.

"I'm not sure about that. She's witnessed this entire interrogation," Phil said quietly, and he got up and left the room.

Jack, still sitting in the chair, was stunned for a moment, and then he froze up completely as his soulmate – Jemma – came in.

No longer dressed in SHIELD black tactical gear, she was wearing a pretty blouse, white with tiny flowers on it, and slim grey trousers that showed off gorgeously slender legs. Jack couldn't stop staring.

"You are _stunning_ ," he said a little hoarsely.

Jemma stood surveying him for several long moments. "I really wish you'd picked that to say to me first," she said finally, "but considering what I've heard today – I think I actually understand."

"I'm sorry, I really am." He was still strapped into the chair, doubted he could get out by himself, but he yearned to go to her, to take her hands – to kneel at her feet and worship her. "I understand you probably hate me."

She smiled, suddenly. "I did wonder – _hoped_ , I suppose – if you spoke first. If I might have accidentally stumbled across some handsome Specialist in the middle of a firefight who was snarky even under fire. It's why I went into the field."

"Ah, shit," he hung his head miserably. "I've failed you on all counts."

"Have you?" Her voice was closer, her feet – dainty little feet in neat black shoes – moved into his lowered vision, and suddenly slim fingers were unfastening the restraints on his left wrist. "Not _all_ counts."

She was speaking gently, and a tiny spark of hope kindled in Jack's heart. He looked up to find her face close to his, her eyes intent as she worked at the restraints. His left arm was free suddenly and he caught at her hand, brought it to his lips, savouring the fresh, clean scent of her skin, the softness of it against his callused fingers.

"Not all counts?" he parroted back at her, turning it into a question.

Jemma blushed shyly as Jack's lips brushed lightly over her knuckles, his green eyes looking up at her. She knew one of them wasn't real, had been lost in a long-ago STRIKE mission, but the colour match was so good she really couldn't tell which just then. "You're as handsome as I'd always hoped," she said, her throat dry with nerves.

Jack's lips parted with astonishment. " _Me_?" he said in shock. Who the hell would think _him_ handsome, one-eyed, rough and scarred as he was? He was the Beast to her Beauty, that was for sure.

Jemma's blush deepened, but she nodded, took a deep breath – and suddenly twisted herself sideways and sat daintily on his knee, leaning in close to as her fingers traced down the front of his police uniform.

"I'm hoping you can keep this. I always did like a man in uniform," she whispered in his ear, too quietly for the room's microphones to pick up. She hoped. Or she'd never be able to look Coulson in the eye again.

A low rumble sounded in Jack's broad chest. "For you, angel, I'll get any uniform you like," he whispered back hoarsely.

Jemma wiggled shamelessly in his lap at the thought. His big hand came up and caressed her cheek gently, and she pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. Slowly, never breaking eye contact, Jack slid his hand to the back of her neck and pressed very lightly, drawing her closer, amazed when she leaned in willingly, her eyelashes fluttering down to rest on her cheeks as she closed her eyes, soft lips parting.

"All right, all right, break it up, you two," it was May's voice. Coulson had chickened out and sent her in instead. "Can I take it you're going to accept SHIELD's offer, Rollins?"

He pretended to think about it for a couple of seconds, eyes locked with Jemma's pleading ones. "As long as you promise not to shoot me in the face again, Agent May, I'm in."

Jemma smiled and leaned back in to kiss him.

"Oh God, I'm outta here," May slammed the door on her way out.

 **Good decision, May. Very wise. Jemma's still got Jack mostly restrained, after all…**

 **Now, in other news, I've reloaded the Poll. BUT... because this site only allows a masimum of 100 options, and that's not enough, it's not located here any more. And because this site doesn't allow links, you guys will have to either go to my Tumblr (ozhawkauthor) where you'll find a link down on the left-hand side of the blog, or do a little typing to put in the site address, which is kwiksurveys DOT com SLASH s SLASH** **ibZ8bO7X (delete spaces and switch DOT for . and SLASH for /) You get 10 votes and I'll do my best to work on the most popular ones first! You can send me a request if there's pairings/groupings you'd like to vote for that aren't on the Poll, but please first a) read the Criteria, and b) check I didn't already write it!**


	22. Stick It Back In (Rhodey & Beth)

**Stick It Back In**

 _Rhodey/Beth_

 _WarWaitress_

For kamaete, my RhodeyFest assigned gift partner!

 **Theme song:**

 **T'Pau – The Promise**

Beth didn't even blink when the explosions started. Just another day working one block from Avengers Tower. She didn't look up, just started hurriedly ushering all the customers inside while the café's owner pulled down the blast shutters he'd long since installed to protect the glass windows.

It wasn't until all the customers were safely inside that Beth turned to look up. _Doombots_ , she immediately concluded; really, she would have thought that Victor von Doom would have come up with a better idea by now, the man was supposed to be some sort of savant.

"Beth!" the café's owner shouted from inside, "stop fangirling and get on inside!"

He was grinning at her, though, when she turned to look at him. The battle was well away from them. Until… the expression on his face morphed to sudden horror.

Spinning around, Beth saw the falling, mangled metal, estimated it would land no more than twenty yards from her. It wouldn't hit her, but there was no point running, she wouldn't have time to get inside – she waved frantically to Jeff to shut the door, dived hastily behind the low wall that separated the café's sidewalk area from the street.

The crash was appallingly loud. And followed by a lot of very colourful cursing, which didn't sound like a Doombot, so Beth peered cautiously over the top of the wall.

It wasn't just a Doombot that had crashed. It was _two_ Doombots, neither of them moving, and something smaller and shiny silver that had toppled between the two wrecks and now wasn't moving either. But it _was_ cursing a blue streak.

"War Machine," Beth gasped, recognising the gleaming silver armour. _But why wasn't he moving?_ Glancing up warily, she climbed quickly over the wall and scurried over to the fallen superhero.

"This is fucking bullshit!" Rhodey yelled at the sky. What a ridiculous fucking situation. Crashing the two Doombots should have been so _easy_. Only one of them had somehow hit right on his arc reactor just before hitting the ground and it had dislodged from its housing in the chest of his armour. Which was supposed to be impossible.

"Gonna fucking KILL Stark!" He couldn't move. The armour was so heavy, with the arc reactor not installed to work its servos and motors, Rhodey was trapped like a turtle on his back. He could _see_ the damn arc reactor, popped half out of the casing… if he could just get a hand on it, he was pretty sure he could put it back in, but he couldn't even so much as lift a finger.

A face hove into view, leaning over him. A pretty face, wide blue eyes, masses of thick blonde hair tumbling around smooth pale cheeks. The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but Rhodey got there first.

"I need you to stick it back in!"

Those huge blue eyes widened even further, and pretty pink lips curved into a grin.

"My arc reactor, I can't move, quick…" Rhodey realised how that must have sounded. _And wow, what a girl,_ finding humour even in a situation like this… slim, capable hands pressed down on the arc reactor, gave it a sharp twist and forced it back into the housing in his armour.

His armour came suddenly back to life, the heads-up displays inside his faceplate flashing back on, the battle chatter in his ear resuming. Tony shouting his name.

"I'm fine, Stark, just a minor problem," he said, and then saw the Doombots swooping down towards them. "Oh, shit!"

Leaping up, he grabbed the blonde around the waist and swooped her away fast, using his shoulder-gun to blast the 'bots out of the sky even as he flew.

Beth could hardly breathe with the tight grip he had on her waist, but she didn't scream and flail, just grasped firmly onto his armoured forearm and held on tight.

Once he'd dealt with the 'bots, Rhodey swooped down the block and around the corner to set Beth down at one of Grand Central's subway entrances. There was a small crowd of people huddling on the steps gaping at him and the fight still going on high above the street.

"Go on down into the tunnels, you'll be safe there," he said, before flipping up his faceplate and giving her a smile. "And thanks for your help."

Oh… he was quite _devastatingly_ gorgeous behind that armour. Beth's knees weakened, but she kept a firm hold on his arm. She needed to speak before he flew off again.

"Hey, it's not all that often that the girl gets to save the hero," she quipped.

Rhodey, in the process of activating his thrusters to take off, froze and thumped back to earth. " _What_ did you say?" he demanded.

Beth smiled up at him – in that armour he was nearly seven feet tall, she really hoped he wasn't _quite_ so enormous out of it or she was going to have a very sore neck. "Your words, I hope. Because you said mine."

Rhodey stared at her wonderingly. He'd never even _begun_ to dream that a woman as gorgeous as this one could be his soulmate. "I'm Rhodey. James, I mean. James Rhodes. Colonel." _Stop gibbering…_

"I know who you are. I'm Beth..."

There was another explosion high above them, and Tony started yelling in Rhodey's ear. He winced. "I have to go. Where can I find you?"

"Right where you picked me up! Now go!" she stepped back and he stared at her for a last second, committing her face to his memory, before snapping his faceplate shut and zooming up into the air.

"Is your soulmate _War Machine_?" one of the guys standing at the subway entry asked in amazement – and another one took a photo of her with his phone.

By the time the fight was over, a photo of Beth staring up at Rhodey with his faceplate open was trending all over the Internet.

"Rhooodeeeeey," Tony carolled as they came in to land on the quinjet landing pad. Hawkeye was already there, bow in hand, grinning broadly.

"Pretty girl, Rhodey. Trust you to get shot down in battle and come up with your soulmate."

There was no escape from the heckling, not within Stark's Tower. So he gave up and bore it with good-natured fortitude. Until Steve saw the picture.

"But that's Beth!" He turned an astounded look on Rhodey.

"You _know_ her?" Rhodey asked, stunned – and suddenly feeling rather insecure.

"Sure, she's a sweetheart," Steve shrugged. "Lucky you, Rhodey!" he clapped a hand on Rhodey's shoulder, sending him staggering, since he was no longer in his armour. "But where is she now?"

"I… don't know, she told me I could find her right where I picked her up," Rhodey admitted, a little befuddled.

Steve grinned. "Then what are you still doing here looking at our ugly mugs? _No_ , Tony, you can _not_ go with him." He restrained Stark with a handful of the back of his shirt.

"Go," Thor was pushing Rhodey towards the elevator, Sam laughing and promising he'd keep the airspace clear. Rhodey was walking out the Tower's main doors before he realised he was still wearing the sweaty T-shirt and fatigue pants he'd been wearing under the War Machine suit.

"I can't go like this…" he turned back towards the doors, found them closed firmly in his face. Romanoff standing behind them with her arms folded, one eyebrow raised. "This is a conspiracy," he mouthed at her. She nodded.

"God damn it." Rhodey turned back to the street, squared his shoulders. "Well then." Everything was a mess, he saw. Not as bad as after the Battle of New York, but still, there were repairs that would have to be done. The two 'bots he'd crashed into the street were being examined by a wrecking crew. The café just beyond was already back up and running, serving coffee to the emergency services personnel who'd arrived but had no one to help right now. No casualties beyond a couple of people with cuts from flying glass and the like.

' _Right where you found me.' Well, that's right here, Beth_ … he turned a slow circle. "Where are you, beautiful girl?" he murmured aloud.

"Lookin' for someone, soldier?"

She was nearly as tall as he was. Her blue eyes shining with amusement as he gazed at her.

"It's _flyboy_ , technically, not _soldier_ ," he said, and then wanted to kick himself. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I have a very unfortunate habit of saying utterly stupid things when I look at you. You're so beautiful you make all the brains dribble right out of my head."

Beth started laughing, reached to take his hands. "Well, for saying _that_ , you're entirely forgiven. Flyboy."

Rhodey smiled. Squeezed on her hands. "Will you promise me something, Beth?"

"What's that?"

"Will you promise never, ever to let Stark know what your soulmark says?"


	23. We'll Find A Way (Jemma & Daniel Sousa)

**We'll Find A Way**

 _Jemma Simmons/Daniel Sousa_

Chief Biochemist (Daniel is apparently Chief of the SSR in Agent Carter Season 2)

 **Theme song:**

 **Cyndi Lauper – Time After Time**

"I have to go back." Jemma raised tear-bright eyes to Bobbi's incredulous face.

"No!" Bobbi almost shouted it, and then seeing Jemma's expression, in a softer tone asked " _Why_? Why would you want to go back there? You can't even bring yourself to talk about it."

"Because I can still feel him," Jemma put her hand to her heart. "He's _alive_."

"Who?" Bobbi blinked in astonishment. "You didn't mention meeting anyone else there!"

The very thought of him hurt so much that Jemma could barely force the words out. "I met my _soulmate_ there."

xoxoxoxoxoxox

The first two days on the blue planet had been _terrifying_. She couldn't find anything she even recognised as remotely edible, the water she found in tiny rock pools was little more than stagnant. At least it was reasonably warm, even at night. And the air was breathable, though she suspected there must be a very thick ozone layer. She'd get vitamin D deficiency from the lack of sunlight – if she survived long enough, which was looking increasingly unlikely.

It was on the third 'night' (a noticeable darkening of the blueness) when someone literally fell over her in the rock hollow she'd curled up in to try and get a little sleep, though the odd screams and howls she heard in the night made her too jumpy to fall into anything more than a light doze.

Jemma screamed as a foot landed hard on her ankle. Shrieked again as someone fell heavily atop her.

"Sshh!" a hand covered her mouth. "Don't make a sound!"

She froze, staring up with terrified eyes. The man – and it was an actual, human man, or one who looked enough like it to fool human eyes – who'd fallen atop her wasn't looking at her, was instead looking around, scanning the landscape with wary eyes. He had a short scruffy beard, black hair flopping across his forehead, and high, angular cheekbones.

After a few moments, the man relaxed a little, looked down at her. "It's okay, I don't think they heard." He took his hand off her mouth. "Who are you? I've not seen you before." He looked down, took in her still-reasonably-tidy clothes. "Oh _shit_ no, are you new? Pardon my language, ma'am!"

He had a slightly old-fashioned way of speaking, and his apology made Jemma smile and say unthinkingly; "It's all right, I've heard the word before."

He stared at her, eyes widening. "Did you – that is – those words are on my arm."

"Yours are on my back," she admitted shyly.

"Oh." The pain on his face made her start.

"What?"

"I hoped – since the words are a guarantee – I'd hoped it might mean I'd get home someday."

"I – never thought of that," Jemma whispered, her heart sinking. "Where – where is home for you?"

"Los Angeles – 1951."

"What?" astonished, she blinked up at him. "How long have you been here?"

"About six weeks, local time, near as I can figure," he grinned mirthlessly, seeing her expression. "Why, what year did you leave from – England, I'm guessing, considering your accent. Why would the SSR send the stone back there?"

"They didn't, I…" Jemma paused. "The SSR. You worked for the SSR – for Peggy Carter?"

"Peggy worked for me! Well," his face was transformed from grim despair by a sudden grin which made him look terribly handsome, Jemma realised. "I tried to tell her what to do and she did her own thing, which pretty much always turned out for the best. Is she in charge? I hope those twits in the Senate listened and did the right thing…"

She didn't even know how to _begin_ telling him, just stared at him open-mouthed.

"Where are my manners, I've lost them somewhere in this place," he blinked then, shook his head. "I'm Daniel. Daniel Sousa, and I'm very pleased to meet you, though I really wish it wasn't here."

"Jemma," she said quietly. "Jemma Simmons, and I wish that too. But – I don't think we could have met any other way. Because I'm from the year 2015."

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Bobbi's mouth hung open. "I don't know what to say," she said when Jemma paused. "Other than – I'm so sorry."

"I wouldn't have survived a week without him. He taught me how to find food, how to hide from the lizardbeasts – he told me that there was another man there when he arrived, a man who came through in 1831 but who'd been there only a couple of months, local time. I was there about five months, which matches up with what you told me about the passage of time here, so I'm thinking that the Monolith was a portal through time as well as space. Dropping us all in the same time period, more or less. But," Jemma put her hand to her chest again. "I can still feel Daniel. Feel him alive. Wherever, _when_ ever he is, he's alive."

"You _bonded_ ," Bobbi said, stunned. "How, then – _why_ did you come back with Fitz?"

"I didn't mean to! I thought that Fitz had come through searching for me, and Daniel and I had got separated – I was foraging for food and he'd gone to get water, when the windstorm came up. I heard Fitz's voice, and I know what those storms can be like, if he didn't get shelter he'd die!" The tears began to fall, slowly but steadily. "I didn't know he would drag me back. Not without Daniel. I'd rather have stayed, even in that awful place, than be here without him, and I don't know what to say to Fitz, he seems to want to have some kind of relationship with me, and while before I might – maybe – I don't know, I can't now, I just _can't_ , not while Daniel's still alive…"

"Sshh," Bobbi interrupted the sobbing tirade, pulled Jemma into her arms for a comforting hug. "It's all right. We'll find a way. We'll get you back to him. Somehow." Her eyes fell on the crumbled, inert rocks Jemma had been poring over, and her own heart ached.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

" _Daniel Sousa?_ " Coulson said incredulously.

"Yes, sir." Bobbi met his eyes steadily.

"Well - I don't know what to say, Agent Morse. I'm terribly sorry for Agent Simmons, of course, but even if the Monolith hadn't been destroyed, there's no way I would let anyone else risk their lives going through."

"I know, sir. I'm just briefing you on the situation. Jemma - Agent Simmons swears he's still alive. They bonded, and the bond is still active."

"Oh," Coulson's eyes suddenly took on a thoughtful look. "An active bond, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hmmm…."

Bobbi recognised the expression. Coulson was thinking up a Plan. Quietly, she left his office. He didn't need her in the way slowing down his thought process.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

"Heimdall," Coulson called up into the night sky, feeling like a complete idiot. "I need your help." He waited. Hoped that the Guardian might see. Sif had told him that Heimdall would be keeping watch over them - because of Daisy, Coulson knew, and the fact that Sif feared her and the other Inhumans, but right then he didn't care about the reasons.

He didn't know what he expected. But it wasn't a stomach-churning wrench and blinding white light, which left him sprawling on a white marble floor at the feet of a golden-armoured man at least seven feet tall.

"You called, Son of Coul?" Heimdall rumbled.

"Um. Yes," Coulson pushed himself to his feet, went to dust off his trousers - oh, no dust. He straightened his jacket. "I formally request your help, Guardian," he had no idea how to address Heimdall, but the huge warrior's slight smile told him that good manners would probably help.

"You may ask."

He launched into the tale, finished by saying "And I know that Lady Sif says you can see anything if you know where to look, and since Simmons has an active soulbond and she can give a _direction…_ "

"Perhaps," was all Heimdall said. "Bring her to me, Son of Coul."

"We don't want to send her back there, but to bring him back to us…" Coulson was cut off as the light flared and he was wrenched _sideways_ again.

"So this is Asgard," Jemma breathed, looking around the chamber with fascination. She hadn't been sleeping when Coulson knocked on her door. The bed was too soft, and there was no sound of Daniel's breathing, comforting in her ear.

"This is the Bifrost chamber," Heimdall corrected her. "You are not permitted to enter Asgard itself. Only from here can I view the entire cosmos. So come; stand with me, and show me where to find the mate of your soul, little mortal. I am in SHIELD's debt, for your care of my sister when the Kree erased her memory. I would repay the debt, if I am able."

"Your _sister_?" Jemma gaped up at the giant. "Lady Sif?"

"Indeed," was all Heimdall replied, and his big hand touched her shoulder lightly. "Show me where to find your mate, little one."

She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes and focussed on the bond - on Daniel. All she could feel from him was agonising loneliness, and fear - he could not even know that she had gone back through the portal, she realised. He was searching for her, desperate to find her…

Her hand lifted. Pointed unerringly, and Heimdall crouched beside her, aligning his gaze with the direction of her finger, his golden eyes glowing.

Nothing seemed to happen for an agonisingly long time, and Coulson, watching, began to think it was hopeless. Until Heimdall straightened back up.

"I see him." Turning away from Jemma, he strode to the centre of the Bifrost mechanism. "Cover your eyes!" he called to them before ramming his huge sword into the mechanism and twisting it.

They covered their eyes, but a little of the blinding light still leaked past their fingers. As it faded, Jemma dropped her hands, stumbling forward, dazzled but reaching out unerringly.

"Daniel!"

"Jemma!" His arms closed around her and he held on tightly, astonished but overjoyed. "Oh God, my Jemma…"

"You must go now, Son of Coul," Heimdall rumbled, "back to your own place and time."

Once more, the blinding rainbow flared, and suddenly the three of them were standing among the trees just outside the Playground, Daniel and Jemma still clinging together. He swayed on his bad leg, but she clutched at him, kept him from falling; unlike Coulson, who crash-landed heavily. Again.

"I don't think I like travelling Bifrost," Coulson mumbled queasily, getting to his feet. "Well, Mr Sousa, I think we probably have a lot to talk about… oh," as he saw how passionately Jemma and Daniel were kissing. He sighed, and headed for the Playground's doors. "Later."

 **MUCH later, Coulson. MUCH later.**

 **This pairing requested by phoenix_173, and literally just seeing the mention of it caused Plot Bunny explosion in my brain, so hope you enjoyed!**


	24. Well Out Of My League (Angie & Dum Dum)

**Well Out Of My League**

 _Angie Martinelli/Dum Dum Dugan_

 _DumWaitress? Ugh. Duganelli? Martigan? Nothing sounds right!_

 **Theme song:**

 **Bing Crosby – Swinging On A Star**

Living with Peggy was even more fun than Angie had ever imagined. Especially in Mr Stark's fancy mansion. It was a ten-minute bus ride to work through some of the nicest parts of New York, and sometimes Mr Jarvis even drove her in one of Mr Stark's fancy cars, if he was going her way.

Peggy wasn't much of a party girl, which was understandable with her job and all, but that didn't stop Angie trying to get her to go out and socialise once in a while. She walked in through the door one evening, spotted Peggy's coat already on the rack, and walked through towards the lounge calling;

"Hey English, please tell me you'll come out tonight? It's Saturday night and I haven't been dancing in _ages_!"

She heard Peggy's rich laugh, followed, to her surprised, by the sound of male laughter – more than one man, unless she very much missed her guess. Not just Mr Jarvis, then – perhaps Mr Stark had stopped by? Well Angie wasn't going to primp for _him_ , no sir, she knew all about Howard Stark. She wasn't going to fall for his charm. She passed by the hall mirror without a glance and pushed the lounge door open.

"Oh!"

Mr Stark was indeed there, she'd seen his picture in the papers enough times to recognise him instantly, and Mr Jarvis too, but there were about half a dozen other men in the room, all rising to their feet as she entered.

"Angie," Peggy stood too, came quickly to her side with a reassuring smile. "I'd like you to meet some friends of mine, who I served with in the war. The Howling Commandos, or some of them."

"Oh, my lord," Angie had to fight down the impulse to flee. Legends, heroes, she was meeting these men with her hair all over the place and a run in her stockings…

" _Enchanté, mademoiselle!_ " the closest man bowed over her hand gallantly, and Angie couldn't help but smile.

"You must be Jacques Dernier," she said as he stood straight, and he smiled delightedly.

" _Oui, c'est vrai! Vous êtes aussi intelligent que vous êtes belle!_ "

The handsome black man next to Dernier grinned. "He says that you're as intelligent as you are beautiful, Miss…"

"Where are my manners, I've been quite thrown by you all turning up out of the blue," Peggy said gaily. "This is my dear friend Angie Martinelli."

"Miss Martinelli. Gabe Jones, delighted to meet you."

Angie smiled shyly in return, and then the next man was stepping into Gabe's place.

"James Montgomery Falsworth, Miss Martinelli, but it's far too much of a mouthful, please call me Monty." He had an English accent, just like Peg's, which made Angie like him immediately.

"And you must all call me Angie," she said, "she's told me so many wonderful stories about you all, I feel that we're friends already."

Howard Stark elbowed his way in next, lifting her hand to kiss. Angie gave him a flat stare.

"Don't even think about it, Howard, I've told her lots of stories about you too," Peggy called dryly, and Howard sighed.

"A shame. All right, Peg, your gorgeous friend is off limits."

Angie found herself blushing just a little as Howard gave her a lingering look. Goodness. His charm was _lethal_. She could quite see why girls fell all over themselves, even knowing about his reputation.

The slim, good-looking Japanese man behind Howard bowed to her formally. "Jim Morita, Miss Martinelli."

"Angie, please," she smiled at him. "Peggy said you're from Fresno! I have a cousin living there, she got married and moved out west a couple years back."

"I haven't been home in longer than that, miss… Angie," Jim replied with a wistful smile, "but if you give me your cousin's name, I'll surely be glad to look her up when I get back."

Tim Dugan, last man in line, sighed a little impatiently. He'd been patiently waiting his chance to meet the beautiful blonde with the wide eyes and the sweet smile, and now she and Morita were gettin' into a chat about California. He nudged Morita, not very politely.

"Give a fella a chance, Jim!"

"Dream on, Dum Dum, this lady's out of your league," Jim nudged him back with a snort, but he did move on, as Angie laughed shyly, a clear, soft sound.

"Any friend of Miss Union Jack is likely well out of my league," Dugan agreed with a grin, "won't stop me tryin', though."

Angie's big blue eyes widened even further, her lips parted on an O. And then she let out a squeal of delight, and to Dugan's astonishment, stepped forward and reached up to throw her arms around his neck.

"I _knew_ it! I knew it had to be her!"

"My God, it's you," Dugan said, awed, gazing down at Angie smiling up at him, her eyes shining like stars.

"Miss Union Jack, indeed," Angie giggled, "I _knew_ it had to be Peggy. Who else could it possibly be?"

"So _that_ was why she was so determined to befriend me," Peggy said, enlightened, as Dugan held Angie close, gazing spellbound into her eyes.

"I'm sure it was your winning personality, Miss Carter," Jarvis replied, and she shot him a withering look.

"Well, _I'm_ happy for them both. Come on, let's leave them alone."

"No," Dugan managed to tear his gaze from Angie's, "I heard my girl sayin' she wanted to go out dancin'. So dancing she shall get."

Angie stared up at him adoringly. He was taller than her by a good six inches, massively broad-shouldered, thick curly blond hair and eyes bluer than the sky – and a finely groomed blond moustache. He was smiling down at her happily, a strong arm curved around her waist to hold her close.

"Your name isn't really Dum Dum, is it?" she asked.

"Tim," he admitted.

"That's good. I'd feel a bit of a fool shoutin' Dum Dum when I want to call you down to dinner."

"Can you cook?" he asked hopefully.

"I'll have you know I'm Italian, Tim," her voice softened on his name, and he had to fight down the urge to kiss her right here in front of all the others. "You haven't lived until you've tasted my _cannoli_."

"I can vouch for that," Peggy put in with a smile. "You're a very lucky man, Dum Dum."

"I certainly am," a big, callused hand came up to lightly cup Angie's soft cheek. "The luckiest guy in the world."


	25. Into The Woods (Daisy & Sabretooth)

**Into The Woods**

 _Victor Creed/Daisy Johnson_

 _SabreQuake_

 **Theme song:**

 **Duran Duran - Hungry Like The Wolf**

"I'm so sorry," Daisy said weakly, watching as May swiftly bandaged the bullet hole in Hunter's arm.

"It wasn't your fault," May said automatically, but Hunter's expression told Daisy it wasn't true even before he spoke.

"Don't coddle her, May. You don't do her any favours. They were alerted when that stick cracked under her foot. We'd have been twenty feet closer if not for that."

May said nothing, focussed on pulling the bandage tight. "There's not been much time to train her in wilderness skills," she said finally, as close to an excuse as Daisy had ever heard her make.

"Time to fix that," Hunter said drily, "because next time the bullet might be a few inches higher and further to the right, and I'd rather keep my good looks, thank you."

Feeling horribly guilty that it was her mistake that caused Hunter to be wounded, Daisy threw herself into the training he and May organised for her with enthusiasm. A week later, they told her that they'd organised a 'graduation test' for her.

"Okay," she said a little warily. "Am I going to have to eat more bugs?"

Hunter grinned. "Maybe."

"Ugh."

"We're going to drop you off." May handed her a small backpack. "Make your way back to the Playground. On foot. No cheating."

"As if I would!" Daisy gave her an indignant look.

"I know. Hand over your phone. We've got a tracker on you so if you get horribly lost we'll come in and get you."

She made a face, but handed it over, and not very long after that she was standing in a forest clearing watching the quinjet lift back off into the sky.

"Okay," Daisy said to herself, "time to take stock."

The backpack turned out to contain a map, a compass, a full water canteen, a small rolled sleeping bag, and a rain poncho. Unfolding the map, she sighed at the sea of green. A small X drawn in red had 'Destination' written on it. She looked in vain for another marking.

"Damn."

It took her the rest of the day and climbing a mountain to figure out where she was. By the time she identified the peak on the map, the sun was dropping rapidly towards the horizon and Daisy realised she needed to find shelter. And food. It was fall, so there was a reasonably good chance of some berries, somewhere…

Dinner was a handful of berries and a few hazelnuts she cheated and quaked open. They didn't do much to quiet her growling stomach, but she'd need to be a lot hungrier than this before she'd kill and eat a rabbit like the little grey one she'd seen bounce across her path earlier.

Clearing a patch of ground, she set rocks to build a firepit, and held two pieces of wood together, grinning to herself as she vibrated them faster and faster. Smoke curled upwards quickly and she soon had a comforting little fire blazing. Banking it carefully, she wriggled into her sleeping bag and settled in for the night.

The following morning, she set off almost as soon as she woke, only pausing to bury the remnants of her fire and stow her gear. The Playground was fifteen miles or so away over rough country; she might make it in a single day, but she'd need to move fast.

Victor Creed lifted his head, sniffing the air, startled, as a very unfamiliar scent suddenly caught his attention. His lips curled back from his sharp teeth.

It had been a very long time since a human strayed into his hunting grounds. Well, he'd see the nosy bastard off, all right. People disappeared in the woods all the time and never came out.

Except… his nostrils flared. A _woman_. He grinned suddenly. _Well. Maybe he'd have a little fun with her first_. It had been a long, long time since he'd been with a woman. _Long time since I interacted with anyone. I'm a monster. Humanity doesn't want me, and I don't want them_.

He slipped away from the small cabin he'd built with his own two hands, not making a sound despite his size. It wasn't long before he caught sight of the woman - girl - he paused behind a tree, rather shocked. He'd expected a hunter, someone with a rifle, probably a hard-edged older woman. But this young, lovely girl wasn't even armed as far as he could see, nor was there any scent of gunpowder reaching his nostrils. A small hunting knife rode her belt, and she was practically dressed in tough cargo pants, hiking boots and a plain cotton T-shirt, a small backpack over her back. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a clip behind her head; it wasn't long, chin-length he guessed, a pretty shade of dark brown with lighter streaks.

She paused even as he stood watching, settled for a few moments on a fallen tree, taking out a water bottle and drinking, looking at a map and using a compass, making markings before packing her things away again and getting up.

The girl moved with an easy, economical grace, watching where she put her feet, regularly checking the compass in her hand and making slight adjustments to her direction. She paused a couple of times, foraging for food, Victor realised, as she plucked berries from bushes and ate them from her hand as she walked. He followed her silently, fascinated despite himself. _What was she doing? Where was she going, a beautiful young girl alone in the woods?_ There were no recognised hiking trails anywhere close by.

Curious, he trailed after her, a tall, silent shadow among the trees.

It took Daisy a while to notice that the woodland creatures had fallen silent. She paused mid-stride, looking around. There was no sound but the soughing of the wind through the trees.

 _Predator nearby_ , she thought, remembering Hunter's lessons. _Bear, probably_ … her hand tightened around the hunting knife before she laughed quietly at herself. _It'll be no threat to me if I move on quickly_. Still, she made herself release the knife, hold up her hands and send out a gentle wave of vibrations, feeling the reflections, looking for the bear…

There was something massive and alive behind a tree not too far away. But it wasn't in the direction she planned to go, so she didn't think she needed to worry. Walking on again quickly, she didn't slow her pace for a good fifteen minutes.

Victor stood stunned for a few moments, until after she was out of sight. And then, jaw set, he started after her again, even more careful to make no sound, nor let his scent drift to her on the breeze. Because she had powers, which meant she was a mutant, which meant the X-Men were looking for him again.

The back of Daisy's neck prickled. And the birds were still silent, except for the occasional alarm call. Now she came to think of it, that massive creature behind that tree really hadn't felt quite like a bear - not that she was quite sure what a bear would feel like - spinning around suddenly, she flung out her hands again, sending out a slightly stronger wave of vibration.

 _There!_

The next wave of vibration was designed to incapacitate _whatever_ it was, send it flying - but _it_ was no longer there. And then a massive hand curled around her throat from behind and lifted her off her feet.

She would have screamed, except she couldn't get a sound out. A rough, harsh male voice growled in her ear "What's a little girl like you doing all alone in the woods?"

Daisy's eyes widened with shock. She had to make him let go, she _had_ to… she grabbed onto a thick wrist with both hands and sent a sharp wave of vibration through it.

"Looking for the asshole who calls grown women little girls," she gasped out as his grip loosened. She fully expected him to drop her, but he didn't; his arm jerked and tightened again, something sharp nicked her throat - and then he _did_ drop her.

She was higher in the air than she'd thought - _how big is this asshole anyway?_ \- fell to her knees as she stumbled, twisted around, her hands already coming up. And then she paused as her eyes met those of a _huge_ guy, standing calmly there looking down at her, licking a drop of her blood off a long, brutally sharp-looking fingernail - was that a _claw_? She gaped up at him.

The girl - no, the _woman_ , _his_ woman, his _soulmate_ \- stared up at him, soft lips parted, dark brown eyes very wide. Victor licked his claw again, _tasting_ her, her blood, her sweat. She tasted like _perfection_. Addictive. He had to rein himself in, the instinct to push her down, to taste all of her, warring with the realisation that he'd already frightened her. Slowly, he lowered his hand to his side and dropped to his knees, trying to make himself smaller, less threatening. She had a small hand flung up towards him, shaking slightly, and he reached out to touch her small, slim fingers very gently with his own.

"What's your name?" he rumbled quietly.

She stared at him from wide, spooked eyes - but she didn't look frightened, and there was no fear scent on her. Just a look of concern coming over her face.

"Daisy," she said finally, "Daisy Johnson, please, I can help you - did you take fish oil tablets?"

"What?" he blinked at her in surprise, as she leaned forward, wrapping her little fingers around his.

"Before you changed. Was it the fish oil tablets, or something else? How long ago?" Daisy leaned closer, looking at his eyes. His pupils were slit like a cat's, bright green, and his teeth were too sharp to be fully human.

Victor cocked his head, staring at her. "I've been this way for over a hundred and fifty years," he said quietly. "I was born like this."

"What?" it was Daisy's turn to blink in surprise. "You weren't exposed to Terrigen?"

"Ah," suddenly he understood. "No. No, I'm not Inhuman. I'm X-gene."

Daisy stared at him, at _her soulmate_. He was massive, he'd towered above her before dropping to his knees. She suspected he was even bigger than Mack. He had short, untidily clipped brown hair, thick stubble and a squarish, handsome face set off by those spectacular eyes.

He was _very_ attractive to her sensibilities. She took a deep breath and realised that was a mistake when she caught his scent, a woodsy, musky scent that made heat coil through her body, moisture well between her legs. His nostrils flared and she realised he was probably scenting her arousal. His eyes hooded, lips parting, and he ran his tongue over his lower lip slowly.

"I don't even know your name," she managed to gulp out, her eyes still locked with his.

"Victor. Victor Creed." He leaned closer to her, his slitted pupils flared, almost completely round. "I can _taste_ you on the air," he whispered. "So sweet, my Daisy…"

She shuddered at his possessive tone, swayed towards him unconsciously, and a second later his arm had snapped around her, taken her down to the ground, pinned her beneath his powerful body.

The moan that escaped Daisy was pure arousal, making Victor growl in his throat just before he took her mouth with his own, plundering, _possessing_. She moaned again, clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer. Legs wrapping around his waist.

"Phil!" May burst into his office, and Coulson looked up from his desk, startled. "We've picked Sk-Daisy up on approach, she's been hurt…"

"What?" Phil was up and running almost at once. Daisy was two days later than May and Hunter had predicted she'd arrive back, he'd been worried sick, and it seemed that his worries might well have been justified.

"Hunter and Mack went out to meet her…"

Phil got to the main doors of the Playground just as the three came out of the trees. Daisy was pushing the two men off, insisting that she was _fine_ , _no_ , Mack you can _not_ carry me.

She didn't look fine, to Phil's horrified eyes. Her clothes were badly ripped, barely retaining her modesty. Her hair a tangled mess, deep red bruises across her neck and chest that looked - oddly like love bites, actually.

"What the hell _happened_ to you?" it was Bobbi who exclaimed it, having come up behind May and Coulson while they stared.

Daisy's smile was radiant. "I met my soulmate."

"Oh," Hunter said in suddenly enlightened tones, "well that explains _everything_."

"Where _is_ he, then?" Bobbi asked curiously.

"We thought I should come on ahead. Make sure you guys didn't freak out or anything when he turned up, since you know he's with me now." Her smile was still radiant, and Phil found himself smiling along with her.

"Well, tell him to come on in. I'm delighted to meet your soulmate, Daisy," he told her honestly. While he was a little concerned about her physical state, he'd seen the aftermath of soulmates meeting for the first time before. And considering that their first meeting was out in the wilderness - well, it could be worse.

Daisy had turned, was making a beckoning gesture towards the trees. Despite the forewarning, May still went instinctively for her gun when a giant of a man stepped out of the treeline and came striding towards them.

"Holy shit," Hunter and Bobbi breathed in unison.

Mack only stared, and sighed as Daisy sprinted towards the man, leaped up into his arms and started kissing him as though they'd been parted for weeks instead of only a few minutes. "I guess I'd better lay in a supply of bleach."

May slowly eased her gun back into its holster and looked up at Mack, her lips twisting in a wry smile. "Forget the bleach, Mack. Get _napalm_."

 **With thanks to amusewithaview, LadyWinterlight and nerdykat for inspiring this pairing and supplying the last couple of lines during a hilarious session in my chatroom!**

 **(Amuse, you better write that Victor/Remy/Darcy Short. I am DYING to see it!)**


	26. Hydra Hottie (Darcy & Bakshi)

**Hydra Hottie**

 _Darcy/Bakshi_

 _Darkshi_

 **Theme song:**

 **Imagine Dragons – Radioactive**

 _For curiouskittyssaymew on Tumblr, who regularly begs me for more Bakshi. Takes place in the time period immediately after CA:TWS and is therefore AU for Bakshi's part in AoS thereafter._

"You just… just… wait until Thor hears about this!" Darcy shouted impotently after Ian as the cell door closed behind him with a final-sounding _clang_.

A derisive laugh was her answer, followed by "You just sit tight now, Darcy girl. The boss will be along to speak to you in a bit."

"Well isn't this just peachy," she muttered to herself as the sound of Ian's boots faded away. Looking around the cell, her shoulders dropped further. It was almost bare, only a thin pad of a mattress on a shelf extruded from the wall, a basic toilet and tiny sink, both metal and firmly attached to the wall. Nothing she could use as a weapon.

She circled the cell a few times, trying furiously to pace out some of her frustration. How could she not have guessed _something_ was off about Ian? He'd been far too competent, too smart; but then she'd never had an intern before, and after he saved her life from the Dark Elves it had never occurred to her not to trust him. Right up until the moment she'd been watching with shocked horror as Captain America and friends crashed three helicarriers into the Potomac.

"This is _awful_ ," she'd turned to Ian, sitting beside her on the couch watching the television just as intently as she was.

"It is," he nodded slowly, looking back at her. "Such a waste. Well, it was good while it lasted, Darcy."

Her brow furrowed with puzzlement as he reached his right hand to his left wrist, tugged out the button on his watch and stabbed a needle into the back of her hand before she could so much as open her mouth to scream.

She'd woken up being carried over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Her whole body felt weak, she could barely move, and seconds later she'd been unceremoniously dumped on the floor of the cell where she was now trapped and alone.

"Bollocks." Moodily, she slumped down onto the bed after pacing the cell a few more times, wincing as her buttocks encountered the hard shelf through the thin latex. "Bollocks, shit and _fuck_."

"Language, Miss Lewis!" a male voice with a crisp English accent startled her, and she shot to her feet.

There was a man outside the cell door. A little above average height, impossibly handsome, with a smoothly tamed head of black curls, olive skin, black eyes that gleamed with amusement as he looked at her. He was wearing an immaculate suit, obviously tailor-made to fit him, emphasizing broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Ian stood right beside him, fading into insignificance beside the other man's sheer charisma.

Any verbal filters Darcy might have possessed completely eliminated by her rage, she snapped; "Pity they didn't send _you_ to seduce me instead, Hydra Hottie, I might actually have enjoyed it."

Ian's face twisted with rage – and a completely different emotion came across the Hydra Hottie's face, one Darcy couldn't interpret at all. He murmured something to Ian that she didn't hear, but that made her _ex_ -boyfriend stiffen to attention before turning and walking swiftly away.

"That wasn't an offer," Darcy realised suddenly that her verbal jab at Ian might have been taken literally by his Hottie boss.

"I didn't think it was." He was still staring at her from those midnight eyes, seemed to be waiting for something. A door closed somewhere in the distance and he brought a remote out of his pocket, pointed it at the camera dome on the ceiling and clicked a button.

"Did you just turn that off?" Darcy blinked, suddenly feeling frightened, as he next brought out keys and unlocked the cell door. She backed into the corner, as far away from him as she could get.

"I need to show you something." He peeled off his suit jacket, slung it over his arm. Unfastened his tie and began to unbutton his crisp white shirt.

"I've seen it before, I th…" she trailed off, her eyes opening very, very wide as she stared, utterly shocked, at the black words scribbled across his abdomen, just below the curve of some very nicely defined pectoral muscles.

"I'm afraid it's what's called a self-fulfilling prophecy," he murmured, and Darcy snapped her gaze up to his face. "I can't say the idea really appealed to me once I discovered what Hydra actually do, but if I ever wanted to meet you…"

"Oh, _fuck_ ," she said disgustedly.

"And I daresay my words to you have caused you to develop a habit of swearing at complete strangers in the hopes of meeting me."

He wasn't approaching closer, was standing halfway across the cell with his shirt half-open looking quite distressingly attractive. Darcy hesitated, staring at him.

"I don't even know your name," she said plaintively at last.

"It's Sunil. Sunil Bakshi."

"Sunil," she tried the name out, discovered that she liked it. He smiled, showing a dimple in his cheek – _so_ not fair, how _dare_ he be that attractive? "So," Darcy tried to keep her voice steady, though she suspected she was failing miserably, "I'd rather not go over to the dark side even if you do have cookies, so what happens now?"

He considered that for a moment, smile fading. "I can't just walk out of here with you, I'm afraid. Even though I'm senior in this facility, there would be too many questions asked. So I'll anonymously tip off your friends as to your location and they can stage a rescue."

"Make sure you're far away," Darcy said impulsively, "Thor can get messy when he's mad…"

"I shall." His smile turned a little crooked. "I'll find you, Darcy. I'll have to extricate myself from Hydra, and it won't be easy, especially not now. The world just got a whole lot messier without SHIELD to police it, as I'm sure you realise."

She hadn't really had time to _begin_ to process the political implications, but it was so obviously true that she nodded anyway. They stood staring at each other in silence for several long moments before Sunil seemed to shake himself out of his trance.

"I'll have to go now. I'll make sure nobody comes into the cell block tonight, Darcy; you should be out of here before dawn anyway. Stay safe, hm?"

"Sunil," Darcy said as he buttoned his shirt back up, reknotted his tie, "be careful."

His handsome face softened, hard lines of tension around his eyes smoothing away, and he took a small step towards her without even seeming to realise it. She met him halfway, smiling up at him a little nervously as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek.

"I'll come to you as soon as I can," he promised quietly, before bending his head and kissing her, slow and sensual. Darcy's eyelids fluttered closed, her lips parted under his tongue's gentle pressure, and she swayed into him, thoroughly enjoying the kiss until he pulled back at last, pressing another kiss lightly on her forehead.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Ian was found dead in the ruins of the facility, Darcy heard later, with a neat bullet hole in the centre of his forehead. And since Thor had called in Sif and the Warriors Three to take the place down and rescue her, somehow she didn't think any of them had taken to using Glocks.

Thor decided to relocate to Avengers Tower in New York, since the other Avengers were congregating there. Thor couldn't take too much of Stark, but with Cap, Barton and Romanoff no longer working for SHIELD they proved an adequate buffer. Jane spent half her time travelling anyway now, going to lectures and conferences, and since Thor didn't care for aeroplanes he preferred not to be alone and bored when she was away.

Frankly, Thor alone and bored was a Bad Thing in anyone's books, so Darcy was more than happy that he had his superhero playmates to keep him entertained while she travelled the world with Jane, keeping her scientist organised and in the correct location at the appropriate times. Sometimes she thought of Sunil, of his promise to find her when he'd extricated himself from Hydra's tentacles – she laughed mirthlessly at the thought. But then, he could always leave a message with Thor.

Darcy was sitting alone at a pavement café in Madrid, watching the world go by while Jane gave yet another lecture, when a man slipped into the seat opposite her. She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn't interested… and left it open.

"You'll catch flies," Sunil said in amusement.

Darcy shut her mouth with a snap, staring at him, drinking him in with her eyes. He was dressed casually, grey jeans and a white T-shirt that looked fabulous with his colouring, his black curls looser, a few tumbling down over his forehead towards his eyes. He smiled at her, a slow, appreciative smile that flashed his dimple and made the corners of his midnight eyes crinkle up adorably.

"You're here," she said at last, wanted to kick herself for sounding like a complete nitwit. He didn't seem to care about her inanity, though, just reached across the table to take her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles lightly.

"I am. I'm sorry it took a while. I had to extricate myself and build a new identity. I sent all the information I had on Hydra to Stark in an information dump yesterday."

Darcy's mouth fell open again. "So _that's_ why Thor called last night and said they were going on mission and not to worry Jane…"

"Did he? I expect there'll be a lot of mess all over the TV in a few hours, then, if they're moving that quickly." His smile was vindictive and very satisfied. "As long as they get that bastard Whitehall. He's got a SHIELD agent tied to a frame in his office trying to brainwash the poor woman."

"I'm sure they will," Darcy said. She sat and looked at him for a minute, still trying to take in the fact that he was really here with her, this beautiful man, her _soulmate_. "So – what happens now?" she asked hesitantly at last.

Sunil smiled again at her. "That's up to you, Darcy." He was still holding her hand, the tip of his thumb tracing patterns over the back of it gently. "It always will be."

 **The agent in Whitehall's office is of course Agent 33, Kara Lynn Palamas, and everything in AoS would be changed from the point of the Avengers rescuing her and killing Whitehall. And Bakshi would have given up the location of Loki's sceptre and von Strucker, too, possibly before the Twins were changed, so AoU would also have been very different** **. Such a pity it didn't happen my way!**

 **I'm still sad about the loss of Bakshi. Such lovely eye candy, and he made a really good job of being a total amoral and yet somehow utterly sexy Bad Guy.**

 **As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one!**


	27. If Found Please Return (Loki&Maria Hill)

**If Found Please Return**

 _Maria Hill/Loki_

 _Maroki? TrickHill? Dunno, anyone got any better suggestions?_

 _Apparently FrostGrenade is also used, though I don't see that as being specifically Hill. HillFrost works for me. I think I'll go with that one._

 **Theme song:**

 **Noiseworks – Take Me Back**

 _A week after Thor leaves the New Avengers Facility to find out what's going on in Asgard, he returns. With a tall, horribly familiar figure all in green and black by his side._

 _Loki has to run the gamut of Avengers, of course. Explain himself, and just why he's been masquerading as Odin. How Odin, now refreshed from a year-long sleep, has sent Loki to Earth to make amends for some of his past misdeeds._

 _Maria Hill happened to be there when Thor finally brought Loki into the facility; unaware of the commotion outside, they were talking in Jane's lab, having taken a liking to each other some time ago. Maria has developed a habit of wandering by every now and then with a snack or a drink for Jane. They were sipping coffee and Jane was talking maths when Thor came striding in._

"Lady Jane, look who I found on Asgard!"

Jane's mouth fell open as she stared at Loki, who gave her a rather tentative smile. "Hello again, Dr Foster."

Maria watched in amazement as Jane rushed across the lab and gave Loki a hearty smack across the face.

"What was that for this time?" the Trickster demanded with a half-smile.

"Letting Thor think you were dead, you insensitive oaf!" Jane half-shouted at him, before reaching out and hugging him around the waist, her head not even reaching his shoulder. "He _cried_ ," she mumbled against Loki's chest.

Loki patted Jane's head rather gingerly. "I'm sorry, Dr Foster. I – wanted to give Thor the freedom to be with you, if he so chose." He looked around as though hunting for an escape route, and his eyes fell on Maria. A slight frown creased his high, pale brow.

 _He's trying to place me_ , Maria thought. They'd seen each other once before; she'd been one of very few allowed into the outer containment room on the Helicarrier, and she hadn't been able to resist going in to have a look. Their eyes had met for the briefest of instants, but she could never forget that piercing blue gaze.

Except… his eyes were _green_. Clearly and distinctly, emerald-green.

"Welcome back, Thor," Maria said absently as Thor greeted her with his usual exuberant gallantry. Eyes still locked with Loki's, she asked "This is definitely your brother, you're quite sure of it?"

"Aye, there can be no mistake." Thor was clearly overjoyed about it, too.

"But his eyes were blue!"

"Ah," Thor nodded sadly. "Yes, the influence of the Mindstone was upon him then. I knew he would never willingly have done what he did otherwise; it was not until just recently that Loki told me the truth, though, when I told him that the Mindstone had been recovered and is now safe in Vision's keeping."

"Oh." Maria didn't know what to think, to that. She'd talked to both Clint and Helen Cho, both of whom had been controlled by the Mindstone. They had both had described it as an awful experience, like being trapped in a glass prison inside your own mind, watching helplessly as your skills were bent to the will of another. She didn't hold their actions against them, either of them. So – she supposed she had to forgive Loki, too.

Loki was moving away from Jane, who came rushing over to Thor then, leaping into his arms and plastering her mouth to his. Maria watched as Loki came over to her, walking with a long, easy stride, his long green cape flowing around him. _Magnificent_ , she couldn't help but acknowledge silently. Like Thor, it was easy to see how men had once worshipped these beings as gods.

"I believe we have met before," Loki began, stopping in front of her, "and as I do not recall exactly when or where, I believe it must have been last time I came to Midgard. In which case, I almost certainly owe you an apology. I wronged everyone I met then, I fear."

Maria had intended to say that it wasn't his fault, but the words that came out of her mouth instead were; "You killed my best friend."

"Do you refer to the Son of Coul, the man with a habit of not staying dead?" Loki cocked his head, wondering if all Midgardian women were so fiercely defiant in the current day and age. He was beginning to agree with Thor that it was actually rather appealing. Except they seemed to have a most unladylike habit of slapping one to indicate their disapproval…

…his head rocked with the force of the punch.

Working his jaw, Loki blinked down at Maria, astounded by the force such a slender, delicate-looking woman had put behind the blow. She could _really_ throw a punch. A moment later the completely different kind of pain in his chin registered and his green eyes flew wide, even as Maria started back, staring at her hand, at the runes etching themselves in across her knuckles.

"What the _fucking hell_ is that?" she gasped.

"Unexpected," was all Loki could say as he stared at the Jotunn runes spelling out his name and lineage on her fingers. She looked up at him, blue eyes widening even further, and he wondered what the marks on his chin indicated.

Thor and Jane had separated, and the next thing they heard was Thor's booming laughter. "Ah, brother, a fine match for you! The Lady Hill will lead you around by the nose and no mistake!"

Jane was giggling too, and he could see his soulmate's lips beginning to twitch with amusement. Unable to resist any longer, Loki conjured an illusory mirror to see what mark he had been branded with.

 _If found, please return to Maria Hill._

 **With thanks to nerdy-kat and miss-moonstone for inspiring this in my chatroom earlier today**


	28. An Interesting Grasp Of Language

**An Interesting Grasp Of Language**

 _FurySif_

 _WarFury_

 **Theme song:**

 **Rachel Platten: Fight Song**

 _I'm totally blaming the chatroom crowd for this one. You know who you are._

"I am getting so fucking pissed off with motherfucking HYDRA!" Fury slammed into the Avengers' conference centre without even bothering to knock. "All these motherfucking heads keep fucking growing back!"

Sif watched the tall, dark-skinned, one-eyed man with interest. "He has an interesting grasp of language," she remarked to Thor.

"Who the ever-loving-fuck is she?" Fury suddenly noticed the dark-haired woman sitting beside Thor. And the handle of the big-ass sword sticking up above her shoulder.

"The Lady Sif, a boon companion of mine and one of Asgard's finest warriors," Thor replied, "Lady Sif, this is the Furious One of whom you have heard me speak."

"Ah, the deposed leader of SHIELD," Sif said, enlightened.

"I was not deposed, I... it's complicated!" Fury glared at her. She smiled.

"That is a very fine one-eyed glare, oh Furious One. Almost on a par with Odin's, and he has had millennia to practice. I congratulate you."

Despite himself, Fury's lips twitched with amusement. "Thank you, my lady. I will take that as a compliment."

"It was intended as such. Thor has told me of your leadership. You are having problems with a hydra? I have killed several such, if I may lay my sword at your service."

A glint appeared in Fury's eye. "Maybe that's where I've been going wrong," he murmured thoughtfully, "maybe a literal cutting-off of heads would actually serve as a really good object lesson…"

"If you cut the heads off and cauterize them, they don't grow back," Sif offered helpfully.

"I like the way you think."

The heads of the other occupants of the room were swivelling back and forth like spectators at a tennis match. Sif stood gracefully, vaulted over the table, and grinned over her shoulder at Thor.

"I shall return when I have aided the Furious One in his noble quest to rid the world of this Hydra, my prince!"

"They might be gone quite a long time," Natasha said into the stunned silence that fell as the door slammed behind the pair.

"I have a really, really bad feeling about this," Maria Hill said in doom-laden tones.

"Where is this hydra located, oh Furious One?" Sif asked cheerfully.

"It's not a hydra in the sense you're thinking, my lady. And please call me… call me Nick." He _liked_ her, and she was about a millennia older than he was, despite her youthful appearance. He couldn't exactly ask her to call him Sir.

"Then you must call me Sif."

"I'm honoured." He meant it, and she heard the genuine sentiment in his tone, inclined her head to him with a smile.

"I am glad to lay my sword at your service, Nick. No matter what our enemy." She offered her hand for him to clasp, and he blinked at it for a second before smiling back at her and reaching out.

Both accustomed to pain, neither cried out even as agony seared through their palms. Sif's grip tightened, almost crushing Nick's fingers, but he didn't look away from her grey eyes, the pupils flared with shock.

"I have been searching for you for a very, very long time," she breathed softly.

He looked at the runes twining around both their hands as she released her grip; she kept her fingers tangled with his, though. "Does this mean what I think it means? I've seen the marks on Thor's arm and Jane Foster's hand…"

"Aye, we are soulmates, even as they are." Her smile was so lovely, he thought wistfully.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sif blinked, surprised.

"I'm old, Sif. The best years of my life are long gone. I'm no fit mate for someone like you, beautiful and damn near immortal…"

She smiled at him, half-laughed. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Nick Fury had told a great many lies in his life, but he had no need for any of his skills at dissembling now, and her smile broadened.

"Idunn is one of my closest friends. All I will need to do is say the word and she will gift me one of her apples. You will live a thousand years yet at my side, Nick, and all you will have to do to keep me happy is to keep looking at me as you do right now."

His smile broadened to match hers. "That's not going to be difficult _at all_."

Sif was the one who leaned in to kiss him, still smiling. "Then let us go, Nick, and kill this hydra of yours." She looked up at him through half-lowered lashes. "I have a great desire to be done with this task and find a place where we can be alone."

His smile was wry and weary. "Oh, beautiful. I think we'd better put that the other way about. But then, if I've got a thousand years to cut all the heads off Hydra, I might actually get it done this time."

"Well," she smirked, lacing her fingers with his again, "if you are willing to defer, I shall certainly not object."

Maria Hill stared out of the facility window, utterly stunned. "You know," she remarked as Natasha walked up beside her, "I really thought I'd already seen pretty much everything. But spotting Nick Fury making out with a war goddess in the car park really does take the cake."


	29. A Superhero Of My Own (Clint & Claire)

**A Superhero Of My Own**

 _Clint Barton/Claire Temple_

 _HawkNurse_

 **Theme song:**

 **Nickelback – Savin' Me**

 _Spanish translations can be found at the end of the chapter._

"Claire," there was a frantic knocking at her door. "Claire!"

She groaned and dragged herself off the couch. It had been a long, long night in the ER, a double shift, a full moon which meant the weirdos were out in force. But the knocking and the voice at her door sounded urgent.

"Santino," she said on a sigh, leaning on the doorframe.

" _¡Lo siento, pero hay otro hombre en su contenedor de basura!"_ Santino babbled, and she cursed under her breath.

" _¿No es Matt?"_ she checked.

" _¡No! ¡Otro hombre!"_

"Shit," she said, aloud this time. Santino gave her a pathetic look. "Okay, I'm coming, I'm coming, hang on." She scrabbled for her shoes, tugged them on. Hurried down the steps after the boy.

It wasn't Matt Murdock. It was another superhero, and this one she recognised; she'd seen his face on national TV. He wasn't in costume, though, was wearing only a pair of grey trackpants and a torn purple T-shirt, his feet bare. Perhaps that was why Santino hadn't recognised him, Claire thought, glancing sideways at the teenager, seeing his incurious expression.

Well, leaving Hawkeye unconscious in the dumpster really wasn't an option. She debated calling Jessica, for a brief moment. Someone with superstrength would come in handy right about now. Hawkeye wasn't overly tall but he was solidly muscled.

However, considering the time of night, Jessica was highly likely to be drunk, in bed with Luke, or both. Claire sighed and squared her shoulders.

"All right," she climbed up and into the dumpster, wrinkling her nose at the disgusting smell as bags squished under her feet. "Let's have you out of here, buddy. Santino, you grab his legs."

Claire checked Hawkeye over quickly once they had him on the ground; he didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere but there was a spectacular lump on his temple. She felt around it nervously.

"If you've got impenetrable skin too, I'm so fucking done," she told the unconscious man.

" _¿Por que?_ " Santino looked at her oddly.

"Never mind. Come on."

One arm over each of their shoulders, they hauled him up to Claire's apartment and dumped him on the couch. Santino hovered nervously by the door until Claire waved him out with a thank-you, and then he fled like a nervous rabbit, the door banging shut behind him.

"So," Claire said, looking down at the unconscious superhero on her couch with a sigh, "let's see what's up with you, then."

She retrieved some ice from her freezer, wrapped it in a cloth and bound it carefully to the lump on his brow before looking the rest of him over. He was barefoot, and his feet were scratched and cut, filthy too, so she fetched some water and Betadine to clean them up. Considering them, she decided at last to bandage them as well. If he was anything like Matt or Jessica, he'd be up and running for the door the second he was conscious, and he really shouldn't run on those feet.

Turning her attention to his legs once his feet were bandaged, Claire felt around all the joints through his trackpants, slid her hands over the long bones. She couldn't feel anything out of place, but she'd have to wait for him to be conscious to check if he had any pain to be sure.

Moving on up to his chest, she discovered that the purple T-shirt was badly gashed across his stomach, almost hanging off. WIth a feeling of sudden dread, she pushed it up. If he had a gut wound - but there was nothing, only some rather perfect abdominal muscles.

With some scribbled black writing across them.

Claire read the words with a sudden sense of impending doom. _If you've got impenetrable skin too, I'm so fucking done._

"Oh, fuck me _sideways_ ," she said aloud.

"Language," a raspy voice murmured, and she looked up, startled, to meet a pair of blue-grey eyes peering back at her.

"What?"

"Not that I wouldn't like to take you up on the offer because hot damn, have you _seen_ you?"

Claire blinked, having the confusing feeling that she'd just stumbled into some sort of parallel dimension, and said "What?" again.

"You're gorgeous, and considering that you've got your hands all over my abs, I think I'd better introduce myself - I'm Clint Barton."

"I _know_ who you are!" Cheeks burning, she snatched her hands off his stomach. "You're _Hawkeye_."

He grimaced. "Well, technically, yes."

"Technically?" She sat back on her heels and gave him an incredulous look.

"I'm on leave."

"Avengers get to go on leave?"

He gave her a weary smile. "Sokovia was pretty rough."

"Oh…" she remembered now, seeing the footage of the young blond speedster the media had dubbed Quicksilver, dying in a hail of bullets protecting Hawkeye and a child. "I - I'm sorry."

"'S'alright. Well, it's not, but - I'm gettin' past it." He shrugged a thickly muscled shoulder, winced. Jerked back to her senses, Claire frowned.

"What just hurt?"

"Everything?" He tried to push himself up to a sitting position. Claire shoved him down firmly.

"No you don't. I'm a nurse."

He took her in with one quick glance, flicked a second around her apartment and returned his gaze to her face with one eyebrow eloquently raised.

"This is not the first time I've found an unconscious superhero in my dumpster," Claire confessed, and he barked out a short laugh before groaning and pressing against his ribs.

"The dumpster. Shit, I remember now. The Russians!"

"Please tell me they're not more Ranskahovs!"

Clint blinked, several times. "Not to my knowledge," he said slowly. "The Ranskahovs dropped off the map a few months back. How do you…?"

"It's a long story which started with that other superhero I found in my dumpster."

"Which sounds _terribly_ interesting." He looked at her expectantly, and when she said no more, changed tack. "So what were you swearing a blue streak about when I woke up?"

That was an even more uncomfortable question, but lying to him about it really wasn't an option. Taking a deep breath, Claire stood up and tugged up the hem of her T-shirt.

Clint's eyes went very wide as he stared at the single word scrawled almost illegibly over smooth golden skin. _Language_.

"So," he said slowly, "that other guy in the dumpster had impenetrable skin?"

Claire winced. "No. That's another friend of mine. I… seem to be afflicted with superheroes."

Clint went very quiet before saying "You know there isn't actually anything super about me, right? I'm just pretty good with a bow." He tried to push himself to sit up again, and Claire dropped the hem of her T-shirt and leaned over, pressing on his shoulders lightly.

"Don't, Clint, you're hurt!" The ice pack slipped off his head and she grabbed it, put it back. "There's a huge lump on your head, and the way you're moving, you've got at least a couple of cracked ribs."

He grinned up at her. "You really are a nurse. Excellent assessment."

She couldn't help but smile back at him. "And _you_ really are going to be trouble. I can just tell."

He caught at her hand, brought it to his lips, kissed her fingertips lightly. "I still don't know your name, oh sweet damsel who makes a habit of rescuing idiots with hero complexes from her dumpster."

"Claire," she said, smiling wider. "It's Claire Temple."

"That's pretty." He reached out, touched her cheek gently. "You're pretty. Too pretty for a beat-up old hack like me."

"Oh, don't you dare start with that." She rolled her eyes, but she didn't pull away from the touch of his calloused fingertips. Her own curled around his wrist, tentative at first, but then firmer. "It seems the universe has been afflicting me with superheroes in preparation for getting one of my very own."

"I told you, I'm not a superhero."

Leaning down, she kissed him lightly before telling him "Yes, Clint. You are."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

 _¡Lo siento, pero no hay otro hombre en su contenedor de basura! -_ I'm sorry, but there's another man in your dumpster!

 _¿No es Matt? –_ It's not Matt?

 _¡No! ¡Otro hombre! –_ No! Another man!

 _¿Por que? -_ What?

 **As always, I'd love to hear what you think!**


	30. A Scavenging Hero (Bucky & Claire T)

**A Scavenging Hero**

 _Bucky/Claire Temple_

 _WinterNurse_

 **Theme song:**

 **James Bay - Scars**

Claire burst out laughing as Trish finished her story. She had a low, throaty chuckle that was almost drowned out by Jessica's raucous cackle and Karen's joyous peals of laughter, not that she cared.

"Let me get you another drink, Claire," Jessica stood and moved towards the bar, but Claire shook her head, putting a hand on her friend's wrist.

"I'm good, Jess, honestly. You might be rock-steady on your feet but I'm not nearly as hardened a drinker as you are and I have to work tomorrow, I'm on at six."

"You sure?" Jessica checked.

"I'm sure. Thanks, though."

"Stay a little longer?" Karen entreated with her sweet smile, and Claire smiled back.

"If Luke will pour me something non-alcoholic?" she said, her voice no louder than normal, and from the corner of her eye saw Matt raise a finger to Luke, speak to him. A few seconds later Foggy delivered her a glass of lemonade with several chunks of ice and a wedge of lime in it.

Claire sat back with the glass and smiled around at her friends. She'd never thought that getting mixed up with the superhero crowd would lead to her making three of the best female friends she'd ever had. And a bunch of male friends who all seemed to act like her overprotective big brothers, but that was definitely secondary.

Karen swayed into Claire, who put a steadying arm around her shoulders. "Easy there, Red. I think you've had enough."

"Probably," Karen giggled, and then whispered loudly into Claire's ear, "Enough that I'm going to go home with Foggy again tonight."

"Don't know why you don't just bite the bullet and move in with him," Trish slurred, waving her glass in Karen's direction. "Foggy's a keeper."

"He hasn't invited me…"

All three of the other women, older and more worldly-wise than Karen, snorted at that.

"Foggy's not confident enough. He'd be convinced you'll say no," Jessica said. "Just move in. We'll help."

"Yeah, you can carry all the heavy boxes. At once," Trish teased, making them all laugh again.

Luke came over to the table, grinning. "Well, I can hear you ladies are all having a wonderful time, but I gotta stop serving drinks now."

"Awww," Jessica complained.

"I've got another bottle for us upstairs, sugar," he consoled her, slipping an arm around her waist. which made her smile a little bashfully, still embarrassed about open displays of affection in front of others.

"I've got to go, anyway," Trish sighed. "I'm on air tomorrow." She stood, tottering slightly. Matt moved up silently behind her and put a steadying hand under her elbow. "Foggy, Karen, you want to share a cab, as far as your place?"

"Um, sure," Foggy said with a bemused smile as Karen weaved her way over to him and put her arms around his neck, smiling happily up at him. "Sounds good…"

"I'll walk you home, Claire," Matt offered as they headed for the door.

"I'm sure you've got something else to be doing?" she offered him a quizzical glance. "And my apartment's in the opposite direction to yours. It's only two blocks."

"There is a new sweatshop I was thinking of checking out," he confessed, a little sheepishly.

"Go, then." She leaned up and kissed his cheek affectionately. "I'll be fine, Matt. You'll hear if I'm not anyway. Go suit up."

He knew her well enough by now not to argue. Just smiled at her and turned away, disappearing almost instantly into a darkened alley. She really didn't want to see him scaling a wall like a spider, so she turned her back as well and headed back towards her apartment.

Some women might have been nervous about walking alone through Hell's Kitchen, but Claire Temple, nurse and friend to superheroes, walked with calm, unhurried confidence, her head held high. Shadows in alleys, who might have approached had she looked like an easy victim, held their peace.

She was just walking up to her building when a noise to her left alerted her. Claire glanced into the alley with a jaundiced eye; at least it wouldn't be Matt in her dumpster this time.

There was a homeless guy scavenging in it instead. Ordinarily, she'd have put her head down and walked on, but she recognised the container of food he'd just pulled open.

And she was more than a little bit drunk.

"Oh God no, don't eat that!" Claire exclaimed, hurrying down the alley, grabbing the container out of the guy's hand. She hurled it back into the dumpster and tugged on his arm. "Come on upstairs. I should have thrown out that leftover Thai a week ago, I just found it mouldering in the back of the fridge this morning."

The homeless guy - who was a hell of a lot bigger and more cut than most of the hobos she saw around Hell's Kitchen - stared down at her from bright blue eyes as she opened the door to the building.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked in a low, soft voice.

Claire startled, looked up at him. "I… food. I can do better than dumpster food," she said, only then realising that she was about to take a completely unknown man up to her apartment.

A man who'd just said her soulmate words.

"I don't suppose you have a long rambling spiel about leftover Thai food written on you somewhere?" she asked a little dismally. _Just my luck to find my soulmate scavenging for his dinner in my dumpster_ …

He nodded gravely, those amazing eyes fixed on hers. "I'm sorry," he said unexpectedly.

"No, no, don't be - don't be sorry." With a sigh, she started up the stairs. "Come on, then. Let me fix you something to eat."

"You shouldn't invite me up," he said, "I could be dangerous."

Claire turned on the steps, looking down at him, taking in his size, the breadth of his shoulders, the black leather gloves on his hands. "I have no doubt you are. Do you intend to hurt me?"

"Never."

The single word was said with such heartfelt sincerity that she smiled at him for the first time. "Then you'd better come on up. Do you like _fajitas_?"

"I don't know," was the response, the tone almost apologetic, "but I should like to try it."

Claire stared at him. "Where the hell are you from? That's a Brooklyn accent and you don't _know_ if you like fajitas?"

"It's a long story."

"What's your name?" she thought to ask then. "I'm Claire."

He hesitated for a long moment before saying "James." And then he smiled, showing even and surprisingly white teeth. "It's very nice to meet you, Claire." Holding out his hand, he clearly expected her to take it, and when she did, startled her completely by lifting it to his lips for a kiss.

In her entire life, nobody, but _nobody_ , had ever made such a gesture to Claire Temple, not with any sincerity, and certainly not with the sheer, unaffected ease that James did. Her whole demeanour softened, and she laughed, the carefree tones of a young girl.

"You're a charmer, I see. Come on up then, James. Let's find out whether you like _fajitas_ or not."

 _(The Marvel Netflix Girl Gang are HIGHLY likely to reappear at some point, playing drinking games in Luke's bar and laughing like hyenas)._


	31. Blue On Blue (Loki & Nebula)

**Blue On Blue**

 _Loki/Nebula_

 _Lobula? Noki? Lokibula? They all sound so dumb. Or like a fashionable Japanese restaurant - wait, no, that's Nobu..._

 _I think I'll go with Nebuloki; sounds like the best of a bad lot!_

 **Theme song:**

 **Eiffel 65 - Blue (I had to do it!)**

Inspired by poet Shel Silverstein:

" _She had blue skin._

 _And so did he._

 _He kept it hid,_

 _And so did she._

 _They searched for blue_

 _Their whole life through,_

 _Then passed right by -_

 _And never knew."_

Loki attempted to disguise his sigh of boredom as yet another delegate stood to address the assembled crowd of Important Notables from this quadrant of the galaxy. The seating arrangements had been bad enough; Sif had suggested just seating everyone in alphabetical order. Even Fandral had snorted with laughter at that one, pointing out that would mean Yandos and Yandira would be seated next to each other. Considering the ceasefire both sides were itching for an excuse to break, that would be one of the worse ideas in recent diplomatic history.

No, it had fallen to Loki to arrange seating, with subtlety and guile; Asgard was hosting this event and it was Asgard's place to decide who took precedence. Frigga had taught him well, he thought with sorrow-tinged pride as Odin gave him an approving nod on looking over the arrangements. This had once been a task of Frigga's, one which she had performed with the grace and brilliance that had characterised her reign as Odin's queen.

Loki knew Odin was thinking of Frigga too as his face turned sorrowful for a moment, but then he touched Loki on the shoulder and passed on by, smiling in welcoming greeting to Nova Prime.

 _How did you hide your boredom at these interminable speeches, Mother?_ Loki thought, fighting to stay upright and keep a faint, interested smile on his face as the delegate from Seti IV waffled on and on. _More importantly, how shall I?_ He debated slapping on an illusion, but… no, best not. There were at least some races present who were immune to magic.

And then his attention was caught, as a slender form slipped between the seats, bent to whisper in the ear of a delegate, and darted gracefully out again a moment later.

She's _blue_. He blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light, because the being was too humanoid to be Kree, Jotunn - not that Jotunns were invited - Interdite, Pheragot, Sark - too small to be Centaurian - she could be Levian but they were usually more turquoise… he craned his neck to get a glimpse of her as she passed into the brighter-lit hallway outside. Definitely blue, maybe even a bit on the purple side. _How intriguing._

He looked for the blue girl again at the dinner that followed the interminable greeting ceremony, but didn't see her anywhere. It wasn't until he returned to his own quarters that he realised she must be an aide to a delegate rather than a delegate herself, and as such wouldn't be officially invited to the dinner. Frustrated, Loki decided to watch out for her in the coming days.

He caught a glimpse of her two days later, disappearing around a corner in the distance. Pursuing, unfortunately, was not an option as he was locked in the middle of a tricky negotiation with the Praxian delegate.

Early the following morning, he was sure he spotted her on the roof. Since he was in the courtyard at the time and lacked the ability to fly (thank you, Thor, for the regular reminders) there was little point in trying to reach her.

Three days later, the event was almost over, and Loki almost despairing at ever catching more than a fleeting glimpse of the elusive blue woman, when Fandral dropped into the chair beside him at the midday meal.

"You've been looking decidedly glum the last few days, my friend; decided that politics is not to your taste after all?" Fandral asked cheerfully.

"It's been very interesting, actually," Loki said truthfully, and then it occurred to him that the man sitting beside him seemed to be a magnet for females of any race. "Fandral - there's a woman here I am curious about. She's blue, and humanoid…"

Fandral shuddered dramatically. "Nebula! Odin's eye, Loki, steer clear of that one!"

"Why?" because suddenly he saw her, standing in the doorway. Never taking his eyes off her, Loki stood, fully intending to go over and speak to her.

"She's a Galaxy-class assassin, it's the worst-kept secret at the conference… Loki!"

Fandral stared at his friend's rapidly retreating back. "Well," he shrugged after a moment. "I suppose, if you like that sort of thing…"

She'd seen him watching her, of course. Nebula was aware of everything that went on around her, and Loki, Prince of Asgard, was hard to miss. The way everyone quieted when he was near, looked at him respectfully and listened when he spoke; that alone would have been enough, but he had a physical presence too. While his height was not excessive when compared with many races, he had a commanding mien and his green eyes were absolutely piercing, his face expressionate when he wanted it to be. To be the target of the Prince's displeasure was a formidable deterrent to bad behaviour, she thought.

Nebula grimaced when she saw him striding towards her. Her presence here was technically a breach of several interstellar diplomatic treaties, but she wasn't here to kill anyone. She was trying to give up that sort of thing. Play it straight, for the first time in her life. She certainly wasn't going to race back to Thanos' side now that Gamora and her odd bunch of friends had rid her of Ronan's leash.

"Lady Nebula," Loki's voice said not far behind her, and she sighed inwardly.

 _Dammit. I knew telling Fandral my name was a mistake._

Slowly, Nebula turned around, saw Loki just a few steps away. He wasn't all that much taller than she, only three or four inches, but he'd caught up with her easily, his strides long and swift.

"Your Highness." She offered him a courteous bow. "May I help you?"

He seemed strangely lost for words, just staring at her. Self-conscious about the scars on her face, about her cybernetic arm, Nebula began to feel defensive. When he had not spoken for a full two minutes, she snapped.

"What are you staring at?"

"The most beautiful woman I've ever seen." His response was quick - and sincere.

For days she'd been watching him lie and double-talk, spin unpalatable truths and mouth insincere platitudes; the language of diplomacy, smooth and practised. The words he'd just said to her, though - they'd come from his heart. Shocked to the core, Nebula stared back at him.

"I'm…" she couldn't think of what to say. Nobody, in the whole of her life that she could remember, had ever called her beautiful. Not before her scars and not after.

"You're Luphomoid, aren't you?" Loki said when she stopped and seemed lost for words. "I haven't seen one of your kind in - three, four hundred years?"

"There are none of us left, save me. Galactus destroyed our homeworld. My father, my mother and my uncle were away on a diplomatic mission. Thanos killed them and took me for his adopted daughter." She'd said it enough times that the words no longer hurt. They were just words. If she kept telling herself that, she thought, one day it might be true.

"Ahhh," he nodded slowly. " _That_ Nebula. I've heard of you, and your sister Gamora. Nobody told me, though, how beautiful you are."

"You're being ridiculous," she snapped, certain now that he was mocking her. "Gamora's the beauty in the family."

"I prefer blue to green." He looked down at his green robes, then, and grinned, as though realising how ridiculous he'd just made himself sound. "Would you honour me with your presence this evening, at dinner?"

She had absolutely no idea what mad impulse drove her to say yes.

That evening, a polite servant arrived at her quarters and indicated that she should follow him; biting on her lower lip uncertainly, Nebula followed. She felt even more uncertain when she realised she was being led into a restricted section of the palace. The royal family's private suites.

The servant knocked at a door and backed away, bowing politely again before departing silently. Nebula debated just running for it - she who'd never run from a fight in her life - until the door opened slightly and she saw Loki standing there.

He was less formally clad than the state robes she'd seen him in all week, a white shirt with a black and silver waistcoat over it, plain black trews and boots. His silky dark hair fell smoothly to his shoulders, framing his pale face. Self-conscious about her own bald, burned scalp, Nebula looked a little enviously at that hair.

"Your Highness," she said politely.

"Lady Nebula. Please." He stepped back and gestured to her to step inside; closing the door behind her when she did so.

The room was simply set; an elegant wooden table with two chairs, some covered plates on the table. Soft lighting and fresh blooms in vases, releasing a potent, sensual scent into the air.

"I took the liberty of selecting a few dishes," Loki said pleasantly, "I hope that you may find something to tempt your appetite."

She was the temptation, he thought, wearing a dress in a blue-violet fabric just a few shades darker than her amazing skin, softly clinging to her sinuous, lean body. Her long, slim throat was bared, but long sleeves clung to her arms and ended in thin gloves - of course, he remembered, one of them was cybernetic. Obviously she preferred to conceal it whenever she could, though she couldn't conceal her cybernetic eye.

"Why am I here?" she turned on him suddenly, huge black eyes flashing. "Do you think I am here on Asgard to kill someone? Is that what this is about? I'm not. I don't do that any more."

"Indeed?" he looked at her with raised eyebrows. "That's interesting, but no, my lady, that's not why I invited you here." Taking a deep breath, Loki tried to relax himself - and slowly let go of his illusions, the illusions he wore so constantly that he felt curiously naked without them.

Nebula's jaw dropped as the colour slowly flooded into his skin, as the ridges appeared on his brow and nose. As his eyes burned red.

" _Jotunn_ ," she whispered, utterly shocked. "How - when…"

"A thousand years ago, and more, in the last war that Asgard fought with the Frost Giants, Odin found a child. A baby, abandoned to die in a temple. He chose to save the child, to bring him home, and Queen Frigga, may she ever rest in peace, raised me as her own, alongside Thor. My lady mother gifted me with her magic so that I might walk freely among Asgardians without being reviled for my appearance."

Nebula nodded slowly, never taking her eyes from his face. "You - you're magnificent," she breathed in awe. She'd never seen a Jotunn for herself, only pictures, and she thought that Loki looked very short to be a Frost Giant, but still - he was _glorious_.

"As are you, my lady," Loki's mouth quirked in a smile. "Perhaps you understand, now, why you intrigue me so. You walk proudly in your skin, uncaring that any who see you will know you for what you are. I am the only member of my race free to walk among the wider galactic population, as are you - and yet I am _not_ free."

"You're wrong," she said fiercely. "Do you know how it is to have everyone look at you and see only the scars? See only the last survivor of a dead race, one who has outlived her time and now is considered nothing more than a tool for those more powerful? You do not know how lucky you are, Your Highness. Your magic enables you to walk wherever you wish, without being stared at like a carnival freak!"

"And yet, here I am, constrained to Asgard," he gestured.

Nebula laughed. "What would I not give, to have such as my home!"

"It could be," he said quietly, and he reached for her hand, obviously intending to lift it to his lips.

Arrested, they stared at each other as patterns began to crawl over their hands; a lighter blue over Nebula's, a purple-violet over Loki's.

"I knew there was a reason I could not take my eyes off you," Loki said, awed. "Aside from your beauty, that is."

"Not beautiful," she tried to deny again, and he shook his head.

"See yourself through my eyes, Lady Nebula. You are grace personified, the lethal grace of a snake waiting to strike. I cannot look away." Finally, he completed the movement. Lifted her hand to his lips. She shivered a little at the chill he imparted, but it wasn't unbearable. It was - quite arousing, in fact. Her lips parted.

" _Loki_ ," she said his name at last, a thready gasp, and he sighed with pleasure, pulled lightly on her hand to draw her a little closer. Slipped a long arm around her waist and bent his head to take her lips with his own.

 _Note: All these races Loki thought of when wondering what Nebula was were mentioned by Lady Sif as being blue in Agents of SHIELD S01E15._


	32. Thanks, Steve! (Bucky, Sam, Darcy)

**Thanks, Steve**

 _Sam/Bucky/Darcy_

 _FalconWinterShock_

 **Theme song:**

 **Bon Jovi – I'll Be There For You  
**

_A gift for cinnaatheart, for the Darcyland Galentine's Gift Exchange. I hope you enjoy!_

"I might know a guy," Sam told Steve, glancing thoughtfully over at Barnes. "He's an engineer. You remember that ant-guy I was telling you about?"

"The one who kicked your ass?" Steve gave him a slight sideways grin.

"Yeah, yeah, that AI is an untrustworthy little bitch for blabbing on me. But I think he could help. I'll call him."

"You said he was based in San Francisco, though, didn't you? Would he come up here?"

"He might. He owes me one."

Steve glanced over at Bucky, who was slumping exhaustedly against the huge vice. "Call him. We need that arm checked out, make sure there's no trackers in it."

"There's definitely trackers in it," Bucky said wearily. "Why do you think I clamped the fucker in this thing? All this steel masks the signal. They won't be far away, though. They'll be looking for me."

"We need to move, then," Steve said, eyeing the arm. "I wonder if I could use the shield to block the trackers...?"

" _Now_ you're thinking," Sam said, impressed. "If we put him in the back of the SUV, laid the shield over his arm…"

They grinned at each other. Steve headed out to get the car, since he had the keys in his pocket, and Sam looked at Bucky.

"When we let you out of there, you ain't gonna go crazy and try to kill me, are you?" he asked hopefully.

Bucky stiffened, his eyes rolling back, head jolting. He clenched his teeth for a moment before drawing in a long, hissing breath.

"No, I won't hurt you," he said quietly at last.

"What?" Sam startled, hand moving to clasp the opposite forearm.

"So it _is_ you." Bucky smiled, a slight grimace. "I was programmed to kill anyone who spoke those words to me."

"Holy mother of God," Sam said under his breath, still staring incredulously. "And… you're not gonna do that?"

"Nope. Broke the programming. You, and the other one - you're safe from me."

Sam touched his stomach. "Is our third a potty mouth to you, too?"

That made Bucky laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, she's a mouthy one, huh? Looking forward to meeting her. Just as much as I was looking forward to meeting you."

The door at the end of the workshop rumbled open then, Steve silhouetted in the light. "Time to move, guys."

Of course, there was the slight problem that they had nowhere to go. Stark's resources, which they normally relied on so heavily, were denied them. Sam knew a fair few Air Force folks but didn't dare risk it, in case they felt that Bucky should be turned in to the authorities. It was Steve who came up with a solution, eventually.

"Lewis," he passed his phone across to Sam, who was sitting in the back by Bucky, keeping the shield carefully held over Bucky's arm. "Look up Darcy Lewis. She lives around here somewhere. We can hole up at her place for a bit. I know she's anti-Registration."

"And who exactly is Darcy Lewis?" Sam asked, finding the number and pressing Dial.

"She's Jane Foster's ex-intern. Good people. I talked with her a lot when I first woke up. She put a lot of things on that list of mine to help me catch up to living in this century."

The phone rang out. Steve frowned, disappointed. "Call Dr. Foster. She'll tell us where Darcy lives. We can try and get hold of Darcy again later."

Jane Foster was indeed happy to help, providing Darcy's address. She said she hadn't spoken to her friend in a few days but she was sure Darcy would help them. There was a definite subtext that Sam interpreted as meaning that they wouldn't be the first folks Lewis had helped evade the authorities. He really didn't want to know, so he just thanked Dr Foster and hung up.

Bucky was leaning against Sam's leg, his eyes closed, though Sam suspected he wasn't sleeping. Gently, he began to stroke Bucky's hair, humming softly to him as Steve drove them through the night.

Scott Lang met them at Darcy's apartment building on the outskirts of Seattle. He took one look at Steve and his eyes widened.

"Captain America! Huge fan. Huge. I've been dying to meet you. I'm sorry about that whole break-in thing," he babbled, all in one breath, looking over at Sam. "We really needed that widget. Saving the world. You know how it is."

"Only too well," Sam said dryly. "I just hope it was worth it."

"Oh, definitely! Definitely. Killed the bad guy, rescued lots of people, got the girl. Kinda, anyway."

"I know how that is too," Sam said, barely keeping the grin from his face. Steve was outright laughing under his breath.

"Yes. Well." Scott looked across at Bucky. "And this is the infamous Winter Soldier. Mr Barnes."

"Just Bucky," Steve said when Bucky looked pained.

"You've got a problem, I understand…"

"Not here," Sam said. "Come on, let's get inside." He kept his arm firmly around Bucky, both of them holding the shield so that it was held up like a strange metal umbrella over his shoulder. Praying that would be enough to shield them from the satellites that the trackers in the arm would have to connect to.

They hadn't been able to get through to Darcy, and there was no answer when Steve knocked firmly on her apartment door. They all looked at each other in consternation. They really hadn't planned for this.

"Oh well," Scott said a little glumly, "time for me to resume my breaking and entering career, I suppose."

It was really quite startling to see him suddenly vanish from in front of their eyes, shrinking down so small they could hardly see him, before sprinting under the apartment door. A moment later they heard his voice.

"Hang on, there's an alarm - I'll just disable it…"

The door opened mere seconds after that, Scott gesturing them in with a smile.

"We're really going to have to talk about what exactly you use those skills for normally," Steve said as they walked past.

Scott gulped. "Or not…?"

His skills came in damned handy, though, Sam had to concede, when he had Bucky's arm open in under a minute flat and was delicately disconnecting three tiny little devices not many seconds later, all with the shield held just over his head.

"Looks good," Scott mumbled, "but I'm gonna go small and check the whole thing out, just to be sure?" he glanced up at Bucky, who nodded acquiescence.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Scott popped back out again and gave them the all-clear. Steve propped the shield against the wall as Scott carefully began to close the arm back up again.

"It's done?" Sam asked quietly, and Scott nodded.

"Yeah, I disabled the trackers completely. And from the looks of them, they wouldn't have been transmitting anyway, not long-range. Two of them were short-range only, and the third was GPS, but it was powered down. Battery run out, I think."

"So they can't track us here," Steve said, with a soft sigh of relief.

"Nope; your friend's place should hopefully still be here when she gets back." Scott sat back on his heels and smiled at Bucky. "You're all good, buddy."

"Thank you," Bucky said. He looked so tired and weak, Sam just wanted to snuggle him up in a blanket and feed him soup.

 _Which was a thought…_

"I might see if there's some food in the kitchen we could scrounge," he suggested. "Otherwise, Scott could maybe go out for takeout? You're the least recognisable of us…"

"Well, it helps to keep the mask on," Scott grinned, "when one is superheroing."

"Or, you know, being the size of an ant," Sam cracked back, heading into the kitchen - well, kitchenette, really. He hoped the size of the room wasn't an indicator of the quality of the foodstuffs he might find therein. Opening the fridge, he cocked his head.

"Huh." There was fresh food there, milk, lettuce, tomatoes… "I don't think your friend Lewis is out of town, Steve."

"Why not?" Steve came to look in the fridge. "Oh - you might be right. Well - hopefully she won't be too mad when she gets home."

The sound of a key in the lock made them both startle and look towards the door.

"Uh-oh," Scott said cheerfully. Sam shot him a glare. Really, Ant-Man could be quite inappropriate sometimes…

The door swung open to reveal a small brunette wearing a thick coat and scarf, woolly hat and glasses. Huge blue eyes widened behind the glass as she saw Scott, suited and slightly alien-looking, standing right in front of her, but she didn't waste time screaming. She just whipped a Taser out of her pocket and fired.

Scott instinctively hit the buttons on his gloves and vanished down to ant-size, startling a scream from Darcy - and the Taser's pins hit the man directly behind him right in the chest.

Sam went down with a strangled cry, thrashing on the floor, and Darcy yelled again as Steve leapt forward, stooping to yank the pins from Sam's chest.

"Oh my God, Steve, and he's the Falcon - oh, _no_ ," she dropped the Taser and bent over Sam anxiously.

"I'm so sorry, fuck, I didn't mean it!"

Sam's eyes were already wide as he choked and jerked; they couldn't go any wider. Darcy stared down at him, trying to steady his head - until a solidly muscled form crashed into her, shoving her up against the wall, a metal hand clamping on her throat.

"You hurt him!" Bucky growled fiercely.

Darcy made a shocked, strangled sound, and Steve grabbed Bucky, jerking him backwards.

"Let go of her, Buck!"

"Holy fuck, you?" Darcy choked out, staring at Bucky. "Really?"

He stared back at her, his own blue eyes going very wide. His hands clenched slowly, and then he just as slowly made them unclench.

"Really, doll," he said in a soft, slow drawl, looking her up and down appraisingly before he knelt beside Sam, who was still twitching on the floor. "And you just zapped our third into a twitching, drooling mess."

"Fuck my _life_ ," Darcy said succinctly, dropping to her knees beside Sam and making Steve shake his head.

"Darcy, you really do have a terrible potty mouth."

"Yeah, well, suck it up." Gingerly, she touched Sam's hand. "I really am so, so sorry."

"It's OK." He managed something vaguely like a smile, his fingers clenching on hers. Bucky took his other hand and squeezed it lightly.

"It's all gonna be okay, buddy."

"Feel like - I should - be sayin' that to you," Sam choked out. "You just met us both today, after all."

"Yeah. Been a pretty big day," Bucky understated, smiling, making Darcy stare at him in amazement for how handsome he was when he smiled. Blue eyes flickered up to hers and Bucky said "Wouldn't change today for anythin'."

"Think I could have done without the being Tasered part," Sam groaned, trying to push himself up. Bucky grasped his shoulders steadyingly as Darcy buried her face in her hands and groaned.

"I am never, ever going to live this down, am I?"

She felt Sam's hand touch her hair then; he tugged lightly on one of her hands, bringing it away from her face to make her look at him.

"You're already forgiven, beautiful," he said gently, "but no. You're right. It'll never be forgotten."

"Could be worse," Scott, almost forgotten by all of them in the background, said brightly. "She could have shot you with an actual gun. You know. With bullets."

They all turned to stare at him. He started backing slowly towards the door. "I should be getting back, actually. You know how it is. Stuff to do, people to save…"

The door slammed behind him.

Darcy looked back at Sam.

"I suppose he's right," she admitted. "Jane met Thor when she ran over him with her truck, after all."

Sam grinned. "I've heard that story. Thor tells it a lot."

"I haven't and I really think I'd like to," Bucky put in, grinning, "so why don't you come and sit with me on the couch, doll, and tell me all about you, while Sam and Stevie get to makin' some food for all of us?"

"Sounds good," Darcy admitted, and as Sam scrambled to his feet, aided by Steve and Bucky, she got up too and took off her hat and scarf, unbuttoned her coat. "It's been a long few days. Even worse since I lost my phone."

"Which is why we couldn't get hold of you," Steve realised, but Sam and Bucky were just staring, riveted, at the figure revealed as Darcy took her heavy coat off.

"Holy hot damn," Sam said reverently.

"Damn right," Bucky agreed with a broad grin, and the pair of them glanced at each other only momentarily before stepping forward to bracket Darcy, Bucky taking her discarded outerwear and laying them on the back of the couch.

"You are so gorgeous," Sam told Darcy, his hand coming up to smooth down her ruffled hair. She blushed pink, gazing up at him, then at Bucky.

"Coming from either of you two, that's just too incredible to be real," she murmured breathily.

"He's right, you're stunning," Bucky agreed with Sam. "Like one of the pinup girls all the guys used to swoon over back in the day."

Steve, in the kitchen, chuckled. "I thought Darcy reminded me of Rita Hayworth when I first met her," he put in.

"Nah," Bucky shook his head. "More Ava Gardner," one hand described a curvaceous silhouette in the air, making Steve let out a scandalised chuckle and Darcy laugh aloud.

"I think I can live with being put in that company."

"Siren of the silver screen," Sam was grinning, too, one hand stealing around Darcy's waist. "They're right, beautiful. You do have a pinup girl figure."

"And _you_ have a very _heroic_ figure," Darcy eyed the breadth of his shoulders appreciatively. "Thanks, Steve!" she called then.

"What for?"

"Breaking into my apartment to bring me two hot superhero soulmates!"

Steve grinned at her. "I would say any time, but… hopefully it'll just be the once!"

 **I'm so sorry about Scott. He completely and utterly attempted to steal the show.**

 **(I have the feeling he'll be doing that in Civil War, too. But then I think we'll need one or two light-hearted moments to distract us from all the FEELZ!)**

 **And yes, before you lot even ask, I've added this one to the list to get a Sexytimes sequel. Though as usual, if someone thinks they'd like to have a crack at extending it, they're welcome to get in touch!**

 **On a VERY serious note, I have to advise you all that this is the last upload that I will be making to this site. I don't intend to take my works down for another month or so, but I WILL be taking them down. For those of you who don't know, many works (including all of mine) were cloned from FFN this week and uploaded to several mirror sites who then used fanwriter's work to sell advertising etc. Plus the mirrorsites were in several cases hosts for dangerous viruses.**

 **FFN haven't so much as tweeted about this to warn people who might not be aware, and nor have I seen any efforts by anyone other than fanwriters to get the other sites taken down.**

 **I'm not prepared to let this stand. All my works already exist at Ao3 (archiveofourown dot net, for those of you who don't know) under the same username – as well as several works which are Ao3 only! That site is much more user-friendly and has an interface which allows images. View this work there and you'll get to see the manips I made to go with each Short, for example!**

 **Thank you to all those who have followed me on FFN from the beginning of my Marvel adventures. You mean the world to me, and I'm sorry to have to take this step, but I hope to see all of you on Ao3 and at my Tumblr (ozhawkauthor) sometime soon!**


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